


Draw Me The Universe And Then Take Me There

by ScrabbleSense



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alex's going through a lot honestly someone protect him, Angst, Depression, Highschool AU, M/M, Self-Harm, So much angst, Soulmate AU, Swearing, it's so gay, like me, mentioned abusive relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-08
Updated: 2018-06-07
Packaged: 2018-10-29 07:55:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 54,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10849728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScrabbleSense/pseuds/ScrabbleSense
Summary: Alexander Hamilton has so little in life, there really isn't a point in asking for anything. Whatever he asks for gets ripped away in the end, right? What's the point?And then he's shipped off to the land of the free - home of the brave - America. And the bastard, orphan, son of a whore learns to want just one thing in life.For Jefferson to stay out of his fucking way.





	1. Alexander Hamilton

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex never wanted anything from life. People around him bustle and bark for things, but all Alexander wants is to stay together. He doesn't want to be broken.
> 
> And yet that's exactly how he ends up.

**Six.**

“James, please don’t-” Alexander quietly pressed his ear up against his bedroom door, listening to the shouts that echoed from the kitchen down the hall.

“One more word Rachel, and I swear-” The sound of something breaking made Alexander flinch harshly, tears burning in his eyes as he shuddered away from the door slightly. He guessed that his father had hit half of a beer bottle against the counter, as per usual – this wasn’t the first time his mother had been threatened by the jagged shards of a brownish-orange bottle, and she had a scar on her chin to prove it.

“Alright, alright, just… Please. Don’t hurt Alex. Please, we’ll go, I promise.” His mother’s voice begged, and the loud bang of his father’s hand slamming on the counter sounded through the house.

Alexander whimpered and backed away from the door quickly, memories of what had happened to his mother last time they’d fought like this filling his mind. 

He had been so scared; all those bruises, all those cuts, all the screaming and yelling from behind closed doors. His mother had practically dragged him away from the house – away from his father – and they had stayed with a friend for almost a month after that. When they got back from what his mother called their ‘Vacation’, the yelling and the bruises and the cuts didn’t stop.

He jumped at the sound of a door slamming and quickly scrambled back into bed to hide under the blankets. He wasn’t sure who had left or who had come in; maybe a neighbor heard the yelling. Maybe it was the police coming to arrest his abusive father. Maybe – hopefully – his father had left.

Or maybe his mother had left him behind and gone off by herself. 

_She wouldn’t do that though, would she? She wouldn’t just leave him alone with his father? Oh God, what if she had just gone and left?! What if he never saw her again, or-_

He whimpered at the sound of the doorknob turning slowly and screwed his eyes shut as a ray of light poured across the bed. The sound of soft footsteps filled the room and a sweet smell engulfed him.

His mother. He breathed a sigh of relief.

She walked over to his closet and began softly rifling through it, not noticing when he sat up hesitantly.

“Mom?” She jumped at the sound of his voice and turned to look at him with scared eyes. 

“Oh, Alexander! I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to wake you.” She pulled a small backpack from the closet and began pulling his clothes down from their hangers, stuffing them into the bag hurriedly, throwing glances at his open bedroom door every once in a while.

She didn’t look like herself. She hadn’t in years, but that wasn’t the point. Her beautiful brown hair, the same color as Alexanders, was strewn about like she’d just woken up. Her brown freckles were slathered in what seemed to be tears, and her shirt had a large rip in the shoulder as if someone had been trying to grab her.

Despite all of this, however, she still managed to keep her watery eyes in a calm expression, knowing that she was the only thing that kept Alexander from crying.

“Were… Were you and dad fighting again?”

She threw one of the child-sized, bright-yellow backpack straps over her shoulder and sat next to Alexander on the bed, tucking some of his long, brown hair behind his ear and wiping away the tears that stained his frightened face.

“Um… Listen, Alexander… We’re going to go… Away. For a while. Without dad.”

“…For how long?” His mother flinched.

“I- I don’t know... Maybe,” Her voice became thick with sobs, and she engulfed Alexander in a warm, motherly hug. “Maybe forever…” 

Alexander’s heart sank, and he looked up to meet her crying gaze.

“But… But he’s your soulmate.” He felt tears fall onto his shoulder, matching the ones that now slowly ran down his face in utter confusion. 

He was only a kid, his mother knew that. He didn’t know what was happening – even though he was incredibly smart for his age – and his mother hadn’t expected him too. But he knew it was bad because it made his mother cry. Alexander hated bad things.

“Oh, sweetheart; Soulmate’s don’t mean anything. They’re still people. And sometimes,” She sobbed again, breaking the hug to look at her son. She took his small hands in hers, trying to calm herself. 

“Sometimes, we do better without people.”

**Nine.**

“But mom, _why isn’t she responding?!_ ” His voice cracked in panic as he stared at his tan arm in worry. ‘Hello’ was scrawled across his wrist, just as it had been for the past few hours, yet no sign of a response was found.

They had been given the ‘soulmate talk’ in class, and Alexander was quick to realize that he was the only person in the class to lack one.

_“Anything you write on your skin will show up on your soulmate’s skin.” Mrs. Dewitt explained, showing the class her markings – little things that Mr. Dewitt wrote like ‘Have a good day’ or ‘I love you’._

_Nothing like what Alexander’s mother had written to his father. Especially now, since he was out of the picture. Her skin had matched Alex’s since the day they left. Completely blank._

_“Mrs. Dewitt,” Savannah called obnoxiously from behind Alexander. “Does everyone have a soulmate?”_

_Savannah had always hated Alexander, he knew this, (Especially since he cut off her pigtail in second grade for spreading the lie that Alexander couldn’t read) but now she had gone out of her way to insult him knowingly. He knew she only wanted to get under his skin, but she’d taken it too far._

_All eyes were on him as anger slowly boiled in his stomach._

_“Sometimes…” Mrs. Dewitt started hesitantly. “Soulmates pass away, o- or lose hope in finding their other half-"_

_Savannah let out an exasperated sigh, and Alexander’s knuckles turned white as he balled his hands into fists, digging his nails into his palm._

_“Yes, but my mom told me that if your soulmate dies you get a tattoo of their name – my neighbor has one. What about the people who were born without soulmates?”_

_Alexander sucked in a breath, tears burning in his eyes as he stared at his desk – the urge to run away from his problems clouding his senses._

_“Uhm…” Mrs. Dewitt stuttered, her eyes darting to Alexander before looking away. “W- Well, it… it can happen, yes, but it’s very rare-”_

_“So… I- I’ll never have a soulmate?” His voice was quiet and shaky, and he could feel tears begin to run down his face. Anger boiled in his stomach, and he began to shake with hatred._

_He knew that some kids had it worse – that he’d barely been through anything compared to them – but what right did someone have to rip his soulmate away? Alexander had never really believed in a God, yet he now found himself at the invisible beings mercy. All he wanted was a soulmate._

_Nobody should have to die alone. Not even Alexander Hamilton._

_“Now, Alexander, some people don’t get written to until much later in life! It’s silly to give up hope when you’re so young…” Mrs. Dewitt kept rambling, yet her tone seemed to scream the unimaginable: ‘No, Alexander’ was all he heard ‘You don’t have one and you never will’._

_“Who’d want_ him _as a soulmate, anyway?” Savannah whispered to the girl next to her, making sure it was loud enough for Alexander to hear. That was it._

_Before Alexander could comprehend what he was doing, his whirled around in his seat and began to violently claw at Savannah's stupid face in blind rage. She screamed and he felt her hands punch at his outstretched arms, trying to push him away, but his nails quickly collided with her cheek, drawing tiny specs of blood._

_Arms wrapped around his middle and pulled him from his seat. He kicked and screamed and clawed his way to the principal’s office, where he then began to sob. All he wanted was someone who’d be there for him – who’d love him for him. Why couldn’t he just have that? He barely asked for anything in life, and yet-_

“Alexander, they aren’t going to have room to respond if you keep doing that.” His mother chuckled, observing the pen-marks that covered Alexander’s arms as she sat on the bed next to him, snapping him from his thoughts. 

“But what if they _never_ respond?” His voice cracked slightly, trying to keep his tears back. His mother sighed. “Did I ever tell you about my friend, Susan, from high-school?” She asked, trying to lighten the subject, even though he hadn’t actually met her gaze since she came into his room. “Her soulmate didn’t write to her until she was 22; we all thought she was-”

“Soulmate-less? Like me?” Alexander asked quietly. “Mom, what if I don’t have one?” He finally met her gaze – his eyes red and puffy from crying. She opened her mouth to say something, and then closed it again. She hesitated for a moment, trying to decide whether to say something or not; then slowly wrapped him in her arms, letting him cry into her shirt as her hands rubbed circles onto his back.

They stayed in silence for a while, the sound of sobs bouncing through the room as they wracked through Alexander’s body.

“Not having a soulmate isn’t that bad.” She promised after his sobs had died down slightly. He felt a wave of guilt wash over him, and looked up into her dark eyes for a moment, expecting her to be mad for suggesting that not having a soulmate was the end of the world, yet they seemed to be expressing exactly how Alexander felt. Unshed tears coated her brown irises, and the corners of her mouth were turned up slightly in a sad, yet comforting smile.

“I know you didn’t mean it that way,” She answered his unspoken apology. “But we can be soulmate-less together, how about that?”

Alexander nodded into her shirt softly, and she carefully sat back from her son, promising to make him a nice dinner if it meant it would distract him from his panicking. ‘Nice’ didn’t mean much, considering they were dirt-poor, but it was the thought that counted.

And for the first time in his life, he realized what a horrible place St. Nevis really was. But as long as he had his mother, it would be alright. Because maybe there weren’t any pen marks on his arm, but there was a woman who wanted him for him. And that was all he asked for.

**Thirteen.**

“Alex…?” His mother’s voice was airy and weak, the scent of sickness thick on her breath. “Alexander, where are you?!” She sat up quickly and began to blindly search around for her son, despite the fact that he hadn’t moved from her side in almost two weeks.

“I- I’m here, momma.” He croaked, taking her cold hand in his, huddling closer to her side. “I’m here, I’m not leaving.” His voice was hoarse from not having used it, too sick to do anything but sleep and beg for death.

He was too sick to remember what it was that had induced the pneumonia. He was too sick to hear his aunt, crying her heart out in the other room when the doctor had told her that Alex and his mother may not make it. He was too sick to remember whether it had been a week or five minutes since those two paramedics had mentioned that Alex and his mother were too unstable to make it to an off-island hospital, an almost three-hour flight by emergency helicopter. 

He was just cognizant enough, however, to know that they’d just have to wait it out and hope for the best. Alexander had grimaced when his aunt had said ‘The best’. What seemed ‘the best’ right now was the sweet release of death.

_He couldn’t seem to die._

His mother’s shallow, harsh breaths brought him back into whatever fucked-up version of reality he was in right now. 

The walls kept moving, the air seemed to be swimming, and even though Alex had eaten barely anything in the past week and thrown up seven times, he still felt like he was about to lose his lunch to the small trashcan at his bedside. Unbearable waves of sickness kept flooding him, and his senses were so clogged that he could barely remember his own name; blood from countless nosebleeds stuffed his nose, his numb hands and face were coated in sweat, and whenever he opened his eyes, light blinded him so badly that tears would pour down his face.

_He couldn’t seem to die._

“Alexander, listen to me…” His mother breathed, unable to open her eyes due to the blinding nature of the dimly-lit room. 

“The d- doctor said not to talk; it- it could-” But his shaking words stopped as he rolled over onto his side to vomit into the off-white trashcan next to him. The smell of bleach burned his nostrils, pungent from being cleaned out so much in the past few days. He fell back on the bed, exhaustion sweeping over him.

“Alex… I- I don’t think I have m- much time.” Alexander cracked his eyes open a sliver to look at the woman next to him. His mother’s sunken eyes were closed, and her chest heaved like she’d just run a marathon. Her hair was frizzy, and, if all that wasn’t unsettling enough, her skin was sickly pale.

“Mom?” He whispered, weakly taking hold of her hand and resting his chin on her chest to hear her heartbeat. He wasn’t sure if it was just that his ears were pounding, or if her heartbeat really was too weak to detect. All he knew was that he could barely hear anything.

“I ju- just want you to know-”

“Mom, please, you shouldn’t-”

“I want you to know-”

“Mom you’re scaring me, stop.”

“I love you. I love you so much.”

The realization hit Alexander like a truck. 

Maybe he’d been asleep when the signs were most noticeable. Maybe he was too wrapped up in his own throbbing head and weak pulse to notice that his mother had been slowly slipping from life. Maybe he hadn’t heard the doctor mention how his mother had gone through a terrible bout of Scarlet Fever as a child, and, living on the island, had been in a similar position. She’d gotten better then, but her health had never been the same since – maybe Alexander hadn’t caught that from how sick she became with even things like the flu and strep throat. He hadn’t noticed any of these things before, but now he certainly did.

And it hurt so much.

Not because of the physical pain that was brought along with his sickness, but because his mother was leaving him behind and going off by herself.

_He couldn’t seem to die._

Now that his sickness wasn’t the most prominent thing in his mind – now that it wasn’t clogging every thought, memory, or action – he could see the glazed look in his mother’s not-so-chocolate-anymore eyes. He could see the way her gasps rattled every bone in her body. He could see that she didn’t have any sense of where she was or who she was or that Alexander needed her. She was passing on.

“Aunt Sarah!” His croaky, desperate voice rang around the room, making his head pulse. “Aunt Sarah, please-” But he broke off into a coughing fit before he could sob her name again.

“Honey… Honey, shhh… I j- just want... I want you to know that I love you. And I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry.” Her breathing came in short gasps, and her eyes closed. It was like she was drowning and struggling to stay awake at the same time.

“Aunt Sarah! Auntie, please-” His throat was already hoarse, and now that he was screaming, it hurt like hell. Tears streamed down his cheeks as his mother’s grip loosened in his hand. 

_He couldn’t seem to die._

“A- Alex, I can’t-” Her breaths went from shallow to ragged, as if she was suffocating.

He screamed as loud as he could, feeling his throat tear up as he did, and he could hear his aunt’s footsteps shuffle in the other room quickly. Sobs escaped his throat as he begged his mother to stay alive.

“I love you, Alex, I love you so m- much.” Her breathing skipped.

Her eyes twisted shut. Her gasps somehow came even quicker. Sweat lined her forehead. Her pearly-white teeth bit into her rose lips. Her skin was so pale that her freckles had disappeared. Then it all stopped.

Her heartbeat; that look in her eyes; her loose grip on Alex’s hand. It all stopped.

And his mother was gone.

He couldn’t recall much after that – he’d pushed the memory far into the confines of his darkest thoughts – yet he seemed to remember his aunt screaming something – probably a futile attempt to wake his mother up – and he remembered being pried from the room, sobbing and kicking, and was then practically locked in the guest room, clawing and begging weakly for his aunt to open the door as sirens wailed in the distance.

He wanted his mother; he wanted a normal fucking life; he wanted everything to be normal _why the fuck wasn’t everything normal?!_

 _And now there was no-one who loved him for him. Just a copious amount of sad-faced people at the funeral; a plethora of ‘I’m sorry for your loss’ cards; a surplus of ‘It’ll get better’s._

But he knew it wouldn’t. Why should it? Life had taken so much from him already, why didn’t it just push him down a bottomless pit or throw him in the ocean with the sharks already? He deserved it. He’d lost the only person in his life that truly cared for him, meanwhile, everyone else managed to keep living. 

Here he was, crying and sobbing and having a panic attack because he deserved everything he got, and everyone else was just a pen away from comfort. 

That was the first time Alexander Hamilton seriously considered putting a bullet through his head. And he wished he could say it was the last. 

**Seventeen.**

_Useless._ In one word, that was Alexander. Useless. He could give you more if you asked, though. _Pitiful_ was another one. _Worthless – insignificant – nothing_ ; He could go on forever.

_What did he do to deserve this? Was it something he said as a kid and couldn’t remember? Was it somehow his fault he didn’t have a soulmate or parents or a place to call home, and now he was getting punished?_

Bodies.

So many bodies had been found after the hurricane.

In fact, there were so many that he was almost glad that he had no family left – he was almost happy that it meant that he didn’t have to watch their corpses float down the street as rain lashed against the broken windows and lighting lit up the sky, illuminating the bending palm trees and crashing rivers that used to be streets and sidewalks.

His cousin was – no, sorry, not was. Was implies that he was still there, and Alexander can personally promise you that his cousin was most certainly dead. His cousin _had been_ the only family he had left.

And then Alex came home one day to find the lifeless body of Peter dangling from the ceiling fan. He remembered that memory almost as well as his mother’s death; meaning that after he realized what was happening, everything went fuzzy and numb.

He remembered screaming; lots and lots and lots of screaming. And his hands fumbling with the phone at some point, perhaps.

One thing wasn’t fuzzy, however. The cuts on his arm. He’d gotten back to Peter’s shitty apartment later that week to collect his things, and had found his razor. He undid the razors confines, and then he undid his own pain. 

He remembered how good it felt to finally feel numb. 

Numb. That’s all he wanted. Numb.

But it was final now.

The shitty foster-care system that had been set up on the island was shipping old kids out to bring the new ones in.

All those kids that lost their family before the hurricane were quickly packed up and towed off like animals onto planes that went somewhere that was – hopefully – better.

Alexander scoffed bitterly at the thought of being treated like an animal. He figured this wouldn’t be the last time, considering the tales he’d heard from other kids about being pity-adopted (And what kind of good, Christian, white family wouldn’t pity-adopt some poor Caribbean kid like Alex?) It was like adopting a rabbit for Easter. Nobody would care for it after it was brought home, but it was a nice gesture. But like hell was he going to let himself be treated like a bunny. 

No, if he anything, he’d be a lion.

He knew it wasn’t bravery that swarmed inside him, though. It wasn’t bravery that justified the cuts on his arm and the defeated look in his eyes. It wasn’t bravery that accompanied the bitter chuckles every time his sleeve rolled up, glad, for once, that he didn’t have a soulmate, and doubly glad that he had a constant reminder that this was all his fault. It wasn’t bravery that told him not to cry because he was leaving this hellhole once and for all.

But if he could pretend it was, that would be enough.

Bravery to get on that plane; bravery to find a new home; bravery to not start bawling over everything he was leaving behind – even if it was only gravestones.

So Alexander was a lion.

A lion being shoved into a crate, with a large sticker on the side. A sticker labeled; _NEW YORK CITY._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Boy howdy that got dark quickly! Sorry about that, I'm just writing from the heart here (And that's a pretty fucked-up place so...) Stick around if you liked it tho! Also, I'm sorry for how long that was (Almost 4k words) but hey! You made it to the end! Congrats!


	2. In New York You Can Be A New Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Accepting a new family is accepting an old loss, and Alex isn't sure if he wants that.

Alexander didn’t want a new family.

Even if they were only foster parents, he didn’t want them.

He’d arrived in New York City about a week ago, and, although he hadn’t gotten the chance to thoroughly explore the city yet, it was already proving to be a very dismal place. He wasn’t sure if it was always like this, or if it was just because the weather was currently reflecting his mood, but it had been dark and rainy since he got off the plane.

It was raining now, actually. He didn’t mind it though; he liked watching the thin streams of water run down the outside of the dark, car windows. It was thunder and lightning that caused him to panic – not the drizzling pour of rain. In fact, he actually really liked rainy New York. 

Back home in Nevis, when it rained, it lasted about nine-and-a-half days and shook the house every time it thundered. _That_ was what Alex was afraid of. This was simply water, and, unless he stepped out of the car and began to melt, he doubted he’d have a problem with rain anytime soon.

They had passed some shop-lined streets a little while ago, and Alexander’s phone was now loaded with pictures of bright, yellow-orange city-lights against the gray, dreary sky. He wasn’t entirely sure why – he didn’t exactly have the best history with storms – but he found the dreary city to be somewhat comforting, almost giving off a cozy sort of feeling. New York was much prettier than Nevis had ever been.

He wished that he could truly enjoy New York’s aesthetic, but, unfortunately, his mind was too busy to relax.

The constant feeling of dread, mixed with his worrying amount of sleep-deprivation, meant that he was in a constant state of misery that not even thoughts of home could smother. It also really didn’t help that the overly-happy social worker next to him was on her seventh caffeine-patch and wouldn’t shut the fuck up.

“…And they’re so sweet – Martha makes the best apple pie you’ve ever had; George is a bit more reserved but I doubt it’ll take you long to like him. He really is a sweet guy, he’s just a bit awkward sometimes because he doesn’t know if he’ll say the right thing – I mean, aren’t we all? Oh! And you’ll absolutely love their home; I’ve never seen an apartment as cozy as theirs; they have this couch…”

It was getting hard to keep up with what the woman – Alice – was saying as they began to drive down a new street. The buildings quickly escalated in size, going from shabby, three-story apartment complexes with mismatching windows and discolored bricks, to beautiful (And rather expensive looking) twelve-story buildings that overlooked clean, rat-free sidewalks and litter-free parks.

Alice had mentioned earlier that they weren’t the most expensive apartments in New York City – in fact, they were _incredibly_ far off from the price range of penthouses – but, by the sound of things, that had been Martha’s doing, as she sounded like she would rather die than live in a house that had to be cleaned daily, kept nice for important visitors, and cost more than a human soul. 

Alex got the impression that Martha preferred the homely style of life, and he liked her just a smidge more for it.

It was obvious that they were at the high-end of middle-class, however. The fire escapes on the sides of the buildings had delicate patterns on their railings – mostly artsy swirls and curling bars that resembled ivy – and, unlike the lower-class neighborhoods they’d passed a few blocks back, the color scheme stayed consistent through the entire building, lacking the mismatching bricks that had plagued the prior apartments. 

The windows had beautiful trims around their edges as well, and small AC units, wedged in an open window, replaced the giant, faded ones that the other apartments had. Hell, even the curtains that shielded the interior of the apartments from prying eyes weren’t the cotton, cheap-ass ones from earlier. No, everything in these apartments, including the curtains – especially the curtains – cost more than Alexander could fathom.

Another interesting thing about New York – he’d had more realizations in the week he’d been here than ever before.

The one that had really floored him was the realization that back on Nevis he thought he’d had an okay neighborhood. 650$ for rent was profound – only doctors and lawyers made that much. Here, you were lucky to find an apartment under 2,000$.

Curtains weren’t a big deal, he knew that, but suddenly, they were a lot more pronounced than before. This was, of course, coming from a kid who was used to hanging towels over empty curtain rods at night to A) dry freshly-used towels and B) try and block out some of the light that poured in from the streetlamps outside.

He was used to bare minimum, but that didn’t seem to exist here.

“Woah…” He hadn’t expected to verbalize the thought, and blushed slightly as he did; embarrassed to be gawking at something hundreds of locals probably saw daily. Yet Alice gave a small chuckle from beside him, and he relaxed slightly. 

“Don’t worry, kid, I had the same reaction.”

They parallel-parked next to a particularly large building, and Alexander felt his stomach drop. 

He suddenly realized how under-dressed he was for such a posh area, and he began tugging nervously at the sleeves of his dark-blue hoodie. He fixed his ponytail and re-tied his shabby converse before grabbing the small black backpack that contained what little remnants of home he had, and his small suitcase. He hadn’t exactly had much to begin with, and after the hurricane, he somehow had even less.

A cracked picture of his mother and him, a small stuffed animal that he’d had since he was little, a few heirlooms that he didn’t really want but didn’t have the heart to get rid of, and a wad of cash that he had saved up over the years. It wasn’t much, but it wasn’t nothing – and that meant that he would protect that backpack with his life.

A comforting hand was placed on his shoulder, causing him to jump and almost hit his head on the roof of the car. Alice gave him a comforting smile as he let out a shaky breath.

“You okay?”

“Should I be?”

“No.”

“Then no, I’m not.”

She sighed knowingly. He obviously wasn’t the first person to be nervous about starting a new life – anyone who wasn’t scared of going to a completely new family was considered an idiot by Alex’s standards – but at this point in time, he’d rather not think about all the kids whose qualms became reality when they were put in with foster parents even worse than the parent/guardian they’d had before.

“It’s okay to be scared-”

“I’m not scared.” He interjected, accidental venom seeping in with his words.

“-But I promise you, the Washington’s are the nicest people you’ll ever meet.”

Alex rolled his eyes, caught somewhere between a complete and utter mental breakdown and not giving a shit whether this new family would even care about him. Ah, the joys of having both anxiety and depression. The constant cycle of caring about everything and caring about nothing was enough to drive someone to madness. Yet Alexander was still here, sane – or at last, pretending to be – as ever.

He stepped hesitantly from the car, looking up at the building in front of him as light rain coated his eyelashes and cheeks. He counted twelve stories and eleven fire-escape balconies. He was thankful he lacked a fear of heights, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t unnerved by the towering size of the building.

“You ready?” Alice’s voice sounded quietly from next to him, causing him to jump slightly. He let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding.

“Should I be?”

She chuckled. “You know, Alexander, you ask a lot of questions. Idiots would call you loud-mouthed.”

“Geniuses would call me curious.” He countered as Alice began moving towards the entrance.

There was a panel next to the elegant front doors of the complex, harboring well-worn buttons and individual, faded strips of tape, with a different name scrawled on each; it was as if they hadn’t changed out the panel in years, which was surprising, given the freshly-built aura of the street.

 **Washington** was written in neat, cursive handwriting at the very top of the panel, and Alice cast Alex a nervous glance before pushing the button.

It buzzed.

“Hello?” A woman’s voice answered, poorly hiding the excitement that bubbled behind her words.

“It’s Alice, Martha. I brought someone I think you’d like to meet.” Alice’s voice seemed to be just as excited as she spoke into the intercom. Alexander could only assume the two had met before from the way Alice so informally introduced herself.

A buzzing noise sounded, only to be followed by a cheery voice encouraging the pair to make their way upstairs. “Come on up!”

As soon as he stepped inside the building, he was met with the scent of mold, polished wood, and petrichor. It was pretty desolate inside, but the interior overhead lights cast a yellow glow around the room that made it look much more homely. 

There was a sofa, and a coat rack, and an empty ‘Borrow Me!’ umbrella stand, but he barely had time to take any of it in before he was shuffled into one of the brass elevators. Alice pushed the button for the twelfth floor, and the doors rolled shut, waking the elevator up and pushing it towards the top floor.

“I know you’re nervous-” He wanted to deny it, but she was right. At least it was a step up from ‘Scared’. “But I promise, they really are sweet people.”

“You’ve said that at least thrice now.” He mumbled, examining the large dial above the door, watching the floors pass by slowly.

Alice sighed softly, earning a quick glance from Alex, who the sniffed and straightened up, as if apologizing non-verbally.

“Listen, Alex,” She shuffled slightly as the dial dinged for the ninth time. “If you really don’t like them – which I sincerely doubt you will – you can call me. Okay? Give it a month. One month, and you can call me. I’ll come get you, and you can-"

“Get pushed from house-to-house until I’m 18 and then get kicked out into the world? It’s not like I can go _home_ , Alice; that’s not how this works.” He spat, gesturing passionately. 

“No, no… I know.” She back-peddled as the elevator doors opened. They stayed silent for a few heartbeats, as if each waiting for an apology from the other, but Alexander left the elevator in a huff after a moment, dragging his suitcase behind him.

Alice left the elevator hesitantly behind him, but he soon heard her soft voice behind him. “Alex?”

He paused as he walked along the hallway, sighing softly and mentally cursing himself for getting so worked-up. He turned back to face her, only to find her directing a soft smile at him.

“I’ll do what I can, okay? If you want out, I’ll get you out. Deal?”

He held his breath as he thought.

The thing was; he really did want a family. He just wanted someone to be there for him. For once he wanted someone he could count on.

He wanted to say yes, but that meant he didn’t want this family. He wanted to say no, but that meant that he was blindly putting trust into people he’d never met.

He was quiet for a moment.

“I’m not staying for a month if I hate it. Two weeks?”

“Three.”

“Deal.” He nodded and kept moving, letting Alice stroll next to him as they walked down the hallway. They passed the first door, and Alexanders mind began to spin. They passed the second door, and he felt sick. They passed the third door, and Alexander had to stop for a moment to collect his thoughts. It didn’t work, but Alice quickly turned around, so he was forced to pretend everything was normal.

They stopped at the fourth and final door.

Alexander inhaled sharply and felt butterflies erupt in his stomach.

“You knock.” Alice instructed, staring at the door. 

“What? Why can’t you?” He asked nervously, shuffling away from the door slightly. Alice chuckled lightly.

“They’re waiting for you, not me.” She smiled, resting her hand on his shoulder as he sighed.

This was it. It may not be final, but it still hurt. This was him leaving his home behind and accepting all of his losses over the years. This was him doing something incredibly stupid. This was him doing something outrageously smart. This was him.

There was a silence. They were both waiting for something to happen, but neither was sure what that something was.

“Everything’s going by so fast.” He whispered suddenly. “I was in Nevis last week and now…” He paused, sniffing as his composure crumpled slightly, tears beginning to prick in his eyes. “I haven’t had a family in so long…” His eyes were welling up now – he’d never been very good at hiding emotion.

“Alex, no, sweetheart, don’t cry. It’s going to be okay, I promise.” Alice smiled, tears welling in her eyes as well as she wrapped her arms around Alex, to which he gladly hugged back.

“I just want them to like me so badly… Oh, God, what if they don’t like me?” A sob escaped his throat, and he looked up towards the ceiling as he tried to regain his self-control, blinking back tears and steadying his breathing.

“Alexander,” Alice sniffed, trying to push her own tears back. “The Washington’s will love you. I promise that. They’ll love you like you’re their own kid because they’ll see you as nothing less – I swear they will.” She nodded as Alexander met her gaze.

He took one final steadying breath.

And knocked on the door three times.

He felt sick. The butterflies that had previously been fluttering had now turned into a tornado, and Alexander instantly regretted knocking.

There was the sound of a lock clicking, and Alexander contemplated running away. He tried but quickly found that his legs refused to move. 

The doorknob twisted, and the door opened.

Alexander didn’t know what he had expected. 

Possibly a dragon; preferably one that breathed fire, just so he’d have a reason to be scared of it. Maybe he’d expected a family of seventy little children and a mother who knew all of their names. Perhaps he expected a tall, over-shadowing couple who gave off the aura of high-expectations accompanied by crisp and pressed pantsuits.

He had not anticipated Martha Washington.

She was a short woman, only slightly taller than Alexander, and gave off a feeling that Alex could only describe as _motherly_. She was in what seemed to be either pajamas or around-the-house clothes, and her black, very curly hair was wrapped into a loose bun at the back of her head, complimenting her perfectly-trimmed, dark eyebrows. She had light-chocolate skin – with dark eyes to match – and a nervous smile that tugged at dark, glossed lips. She reminded him of the moon – graceful, elegant, and, at the same time, something totally new.

Alexander could feel the butterflies in his stomach settle slightly as he watched her brush some loose hair behind her ear with a good-natured huff, and her eyes rested on Alex. He could tell she was trying not to cry.

“Oh, my!” She cried after a heartbeat or two of looking Alex over, doing a double take at his soaked shoulders and letting her trance of nervous-excitement fade away. “I’m sorry, if I had realized it was raining that bad, I would’ve come down with an umbrella. Come in, come in, please!” She ushered them quickly, closing the door behind the pair and quickly moved over to the couch.

Alex stepped inside and was immediately hit with a wonderful sight. Yellow light flooded the apartment from lamps that stood in all the corners and on a few side-tables around the open living room. The walls were a deep red, and no outside light was entering through the thick, dark-brown curtains. The cream carpets were completely clean, and Alexander could just catch a glimpse of the polished dining-room table through an open door. A fire crackled brightly in the fireplace next to the front door, and the mantle above it was littered with small, framed pictures of Martha and someone else.

The room was comfortably warm and smelled of cinnamon and pen ink, just how Alexander remembered the stores back in Nevis smelling when they had their centuries-old Christmas decorations out. 

Before Alexander could take it all in, Martha’s voice snapped him back into reality. “Shoo!” And the cream-colored dog that was previously sleeping on the couch rolled off the sofa and onto the floor, where it then kept snoring comfortably. Martha tutted and took the blanket off the back of the couch, wrapping it around Alexanders shoulders quickly. 

“Uhm… Thanks.” He hummed quietly, forgetting his past worries. How could anyone feel unnerved in a home as nice as this?

“Hold on a moment, let me get George.” Martha nodded, and Alexander assumed that was the man in the photos with Martha on the mantle. She quickly pushed up the sleeves of her baggy jean-jacket and practically skipped off down the hall.

Not before Alexander managed to catch a glimpse of the pen-marks on her skin, though. _‘Can I call you to get out of this meeting?’_ Was scrawled in messy cursive, sideways, across the back of her forearm. _‘If it means hearing your voice, of course’_ Was written back in clear, loopy letters.

His heart sank again, and he frowned slightly, staring at the ground. He’d never met anyone else who didn’t have a soulmate – it wasn’t like it didn’t happen, but Alexander didn’t exactly come from a soulmately-diverse background – and he’d learned to keep his bar of hope extremely low. He couldn’t help but feel let down, though.

“You’re unusually quiet.” Alexander mused to Alice, who hadn’t said a word since he’d knocked on the door.

“Not much for me to say, is there?”

“From what I gathered during the car-ride over, you seem to have a hard time shutting up.” He didn’t mean for it to come out so harsh, but she only chuckled. Alexander relaxed slightly at her laugh, knowing she could see straight through the walls he was putting up.

“Oh? That’s funny Alex; I believe that I read in your documents that you have trouble doing the same.” She smirked.

Alexander’s ears heated up. “I just… Don’t have much to say?” It was more of a question than a statement.

“What about Martha? What do you think of her?”

He shrugged. “She seems nice.” 

There was so much more to that answer, though. When Alex came home to his aunt’s house after being in the rain – even before his mother died – he was immediately put to work, wringing out his cousin’s shirts and his own sweatshirts on the back porch, and here he was immediately given a blanket? 

And Martha was so nice to him, when did he start deserving that?

If there was one problem he had with this house, was that it kept him from getting too muddled in his thoughts. Maybe that was a good thing – considering that he would sometimes get so wrapped up in bad thoughts that he’d lose the ability to find an anchor to drag himself out again – but, for now, all he wanted was to lose himself in thoughts of his home.

But Martha came back before he had the chance.

“So sorry about that,” He noticed how she looked noticeably more flustered, and there was a kiss-mark – not a hickey, just a darker spot where he assumed her husband’s lips had been previously pressed – on her right cheek. He didn’t doubt that she’d gone to find ‘George’ and started panicking on the way, only to be calmed by her husband.

That kind of thing had never happened with Alexander’s parents, but it had in at least thirty of the 3 million+ books Alexander had read. He didn’t put it passed George and Martha to be the perfect, storybook couple.

“George’ll be out in a moment, he needed a minute to compose himself.” She flattened her baggy shirt slightly and motioned to the couch. “I’ll make you some tea, if you like.” Her smile was as warm and motherly as humanly possible, and Alexander loved every second of seeing it.

There was a thud from one of the back rooms, and Alexander jumped slightly. Heavy footsteps sounded down the hallway, and a man appeared.

If Martha was the moon, this man was definitely Earth. Known, grounded, and ready.

He had almost Carmel skin, with light stubble lining his noticeably-strong jaw. Incredibly short remnants of what seemed to be dark hair covered his otherwise bald head – framed with perfectly-shaven straight lines – and his dark eyes nervously followed Martha as she walked by. A sheepish smile grazed his features, which gave off a feeling of abnormality.

Alexander could better picture him as the CEO of some Law Firm, with an iron grasp on the company and its employees. Not the nervous, smiling man in front of him.

There was a spark in his eyes the moment his gaze rested on Alex, and it was almost identical to that of Martha’s nervous-excitement, only with a great deal more caution. 

“I assume you’re Alexander?” 

His voice was low and Alexander’s first though that, in the wrong situation, this man could be Alexander’s worst nightmare – incredibly tall and much more muscular than Alex, who was practically a skeleton anyway, plus a voice that rivaled that of Zeus… 

He didn’t doubt that this man could honestly hurt him. 

That wasn’t to say he would, _God no_ – from what he’d heard, this was the type of man to cry during Mufasa’s death in The Lion King – but he _could_ , and Alex had too many memories of people like that.

Alex shuffled back slightly and nodded silently. He caught George’s face drop as he glanced up quickly, but he refused to meet his gaze.

Martha quickly bustled back in, and Alexander looked up once again, smiling slightly. George relaxed somewhat as Martha handed Alex a red mug of piping-hot, ginger-and-lemon tea, which he took with shaking hands that he had covered with the ends of his sweater sleeves.

Finally, Alice spoke up.

“Alex…” She started softly, and the short boy looked up to meet her gaze with worried eyes. “I’m really only supposed to drop you off – I should be getting back.” 

Alexander shifted hesitantly. “C- Can’t you stay for just a _little longer_?!” He begged, casting a glance at Martha and George, who were now standing side-by-side in front of the couch. Now that they were together, with George’s hand laid over Martha’s shoulders thanks to the height difference, he noticed how perfect they looked together.

Alice smiled sympathetically, and shuffled forward, wrapping her arms around Alex. He felt tears prick at his eyes as they swayed slightly, her hands rubbing up and down on his back as he slowly returned the hug, allowing the hand that wasn’t holding his mug to wrap around her as well, tightening the hug. 

Her chin rested on his shoulder for a moment, and a compassionate whisper was heard. “Call me if you need me, okay?”

“Of course. And thank you. For everything.”

He felt her nod against his shoulder, and she took in a shaky breath as she broke the hug. His hand lingered in hers for a second afterward, and she gave him a teary, excited smile. 

“You’re going to be fine, okay?” She giggled slightly. 

“I know.” He nodded back. “I think I’m in pretty good hands.”

She nodded, waved goodbye to the Washington’s, and left. Alice was gone.

It was just Alex and the Washington’s – whom he’d known for all of thirteen minutes – and that’s how it was going to stay for at least three weeks.

There was a comfortable silence, with only the sounds of the Washington’s dog snoring peacefully at the foot of the couch, and the constant crackle of the fire that blazed warmly in the fireplace.

“Uhm… I- I didn’t bring much. Well, I mean, I didn’t have much to bring, to be honest, but there’s still a small suitcase of my stuff – I mean, it’s mostly got old books in it – possibly a chess board – oh, and my clothes and things of course; but my backpack has more stuff in it I guess – but most of that’s personal. Nothing I brought is going to take up the whole room, though, so honestly, I could probably sleep in the fireplace and still have room to-"

“Alexander?” Martha’s voice silenced his rambling. Now that he was alone, every move the pair made was carefully taken into account and a rapid calculation was made to see how quickly they could get to him. Just in case. 

“Y- Yes? Sorry, sorry, I didn’t mean to ramble I just-” He was doing it again.

“Would you like us to show you your room?” She took a hesitant step forward, but Alexander didn’t feel as threatened as he thought he would.

In fact, he felt almost… Safe.

“U- Uhm… Sure.” He nodded, relaxing slightly and gripping the handle of the suitcase.

Martha smiled and turned around towards the hall, and Alex went to follow.

But the second George turned to follow her, he hesitated. He didn’t feel as intimidated by George as he had, say, _his father_ , but he did feel the slightest bit uneasy whenever he moved.

He walked about six steps behind George as they walked down the short hall, his trained eyes watching the man’s every move and not finding the least bit of comfort in the fact that he walked with his hands clasped behind his back with his chin held high. ‘Regal modesty’ was the term Alex thought best described it, and he didn’t like it one bit.

He did manage to sneak a glimpse at the underneath of George’s cuffs, however, and, much to his disappointment, the black cursive letters that sat on the back of his arm matched Martha’s perfectly. 

They were soulmates, raising a soulmate-less child, and they didn’t even know it.

What if they asked about her? What if they asked him to show them what he and his non-existent soulmate talked about? What if they found out? Would they still want him? There weren’t many people in the world who didn’t have soulmate’s, and he didn’t exactly feel a compelling urge to go and find one of them; would they kick him back onto the streets?! _Oh God, oh God, oh-_

“Alex?” Martha’s quiet voice brought him back into reality. 

He gave himself some leeway because this was a new home and all but mentally scolded himself for getting so wrapped up in his thoughts.

“This is your room.” They had stopped at a closed, freshly-painted door, and Martha and George stood on the opposite side of it with eager, yet patient eyes, seemingly waiting for something.

“Can I…?” He nodded his head towards the door slightly, wondering if they wanted him to open it.

“Only if you want to.” Martha nodded encouragingly. He took a deep breath, steadying his swimming mind, and reached for the doorknob with a shaking, sleeve-covered hand.

He turned the knob, opened the door, and gasped.

The only time he’d ever had his own room was when he and his mother were still living with his father, and even then it was the smallest room in the house – barely bigger than the coat closet. When they’d lived with his cousin, it was a smaller house, meaning that, on good nights, it was Peter, his aunt, and him together in one, small room. 

There were a few instances where a few other people were there as well (His uncle John, Peter’s friend, whoever his aunt was dating at the time – maybe even Alex’s mother if the air-conditioning in her room didn’t work; which was actually quite a common occurrence), but, over the years, Alexander had learned to expect other people sleeping in the same room as him. 

Hell, even in the shitty orphanage back on Nevis, it was him and about four or five other boys in one room. Sleeping bags and a tough-as-nail, back-breaking mattress could usually be found on the floor, but, apart from a dust-bunny or two, that was it.

This was… This was almost too much.

Freshly-painted sunset-yellow walls surrounded him, and – unlike his previous housing establishments – he could distinctly remember one foster home he’d been in where there had a been a ceiling fan that produced an obnoxious amount of blindingly white light – this room had expensive-looking (Which was really saying something, considering how expensive everything in the apartment already looked) lamps that stood in the corners, matching a small one on his bedside.

Bedside. _He had a bed._

Again, just like the curtains, this was not meant to be a big deal, but oh God, it was. He had a bed – his own, comfortable, warm, clean bed. And a closet! This was his.

He felt his suitcase handle fall from his grip as he lost himself in the sight of the room, and he quickly fumbled to pick it up again.

Only then did he allow himself to be brought back to his senses. 

“Is… This is mine?” He asked quietly, stepping into the room and quickly taking note of how his muddy shoes were probably wreaking havoc on the clean, white carpets. 

“Do you like it? George and I tried to think broadly considering we had yet to meet you, and I know the curtains don’t really match, and the carpet should’ve been cleaned earlier – I really am sorry about that, we cleaned it after the room was done and no one’s really set foot in here since – we didn’t want to mess it up because we wanted it to be perfect – so there’s probably a bit of dust, but we can clean it again if you-”

“I love it!” Alex answered, turning to face the pair with a wide grin on his face. It hurt to smile like that, actually. How long had it been since he smiled like that? Two – three years? He stopped smiling.

"Really?" Martha stopped her rambling to look up at him, and his face fell. 

“S- Sorry, I- I didn’t mean to interrupt, I just-” Martha cut him off with a small sniff, and he looked up to find her with her hands clasped to her mouth and teary eyes, a small smile hinting behind her hands.

“You really like it?”

“Uhm…” He scoffed slightly, laughing at how stupid he was. He was trying to hold back happy tears over a _room_. “Y- Yeah.” He laughed breathily, looking around. “Yeah, I do.”

Immediately – and with no warning – Alex was engulfed in a hug. He heard sniffles into his shoulder, and his thoughts raced to find out what he’d said wrong. _Was it the room? Did he not show enough appreciation? Did they think he was ungrateful? What if-_

But from the doorway, George caught Alexander’s eye, and he smiled at the teen. Alex caught sight of a few, unshed tears glistening in his eyes, yet they were quickly blinked back, accompanied by a sigh.

Martha swayed back and forth with Alex as he awkwardly tried patting her back. She soon broke the hug, however, and smiled at him.

“I’m so excited to finally have you here! We’ve had this room empty for so long and now… Now you’re… You’re here.” She kept having to pause during her sentences to sniff, but Alex didn’t mind. It just meant she cared about him.

George opened his mouth to say something but was quickly pushed aside as the large dog from earlier came waltzing in with his tail wagging excitedly.

“Oh, and this is Ragman. He’s about as old as George, so do be careful with him, but, other than that, he’s pretty laid-back. You can pet him if you like – he won’t bite.” Martha promised, watching Alexander freeze as the dog sniffed at his shoes.

“He’s very… C- Cute?” He stuttered, jumping slightly every time the dog’s cold, wet nose moved to a new position around his ankles.

Martha only chuckled. “I think he likes you.” She smiled as Alex bent a hand down to pet the dog. Instantly, Alex was in love.

He’d seen dogs before – in fact, he and his cousin kept a stray named Peacock for a while before it ran off – but Ragman was different. He’d never felt anything so soft, and he immediately liked the dog more than any other. Peacock bit him every time he tried to feed him, anyway.

Ragman suddenly ran behind Alex, and jumped on the bed, barking at Alex as if he wanted him to chase him. Alexander only chuckled and sat on the bed next to the dog, allowing Ragman to sit down and wriggle his head under Alex’s arm. Martha tutted slightly – as brown and white dog fur was sure to get all over Alex’s new, red covers – but sat down on the bed anyway.

Something moved behind him and he whipped around to find George, gone from the doorway. He hated to be so jumpy, but he had good reason; he’d only here for about than an hour, and he needed time.

“We’ll give you time to settle in later, I promise, I know it’s a lot, but I doubt you’ve eaten much today. I take it your stomach still isn’t exactly in a place to be eating anything too harsh, though,” Alex liked Martha. She seemed to always be right about everything. “But is there anything particular you like? Anything I can make or pick up? We don’t eat out very often but if you want, I figure this is a reasonable time to celebrate.” A teasing tone mingled with her words; Alexander didn’t really think he was much to be celebrated, but who was he to stop the Washington’s from partying?

“Uhm… I’m not too hungry, but I could go for something I suppose.”

“I could get you something from McDonald's?”

“From where?” He tilted his head to the side slightly in confusion.

“Never mind,” She chuckled slightly. “I could just get you a milkshake or something.”

“I guess that would be okay.” He smiled sheepishly, and Martha seemed to get the memo.

“You aren’t imposing, Alex, I promise – You know that right? Even if our situation is temporary, okay? I wouldn’t want you starving.” She joked, smiling slightly and tilting her head towards him as if she was asking him silently to please just order more.

“Does this, uhm… McDoo’s have burgers, by any chance? I think Alice may have mentioned it on the way here.” He asked, trying to recall what was said about the Golden-Arched place.

Martha chuckled. “McDonald's.” She corrected, and Alex was glad that she hadn’t done it the way the woman from the orphanage had when he forgot the American word for ‘spatula’. On Nevis, he’s never really gotten the chance to say certain words in English. Most people spoke Spanish and that was the way it was. He now learned that Americans tended to use those words more than he did on the island, and he’d been reprimanded multiple times already for it. _And he still couldn’t say ‘spatula’ correctly._

“And yes, they do. They’re pumped full of grease and probably a few man-made cow-hormones, but yes.”

“Just a regular one of those, then, I guess. Thank you.”

She smiled and, although he didn’t have the willpower at the moment to look down and break her gaze with him, he felt her hand pat his.

She stood up from the bed and began towards the door, already fumbling with her bag and keys.

“I can go and-” 

Panic shot down his spine. If she left, he’d be home alone with George. 

What if he was like the last social worker he’d been introduced to?! The one before Alice – this time, back on Nevis – had only known Alex for a few hours before deciding he was a prick who was in desperate need of a few harsh slaps. The memory made his cheeks sting.

He couldn’t wrap his head around why he trusted Martha – maybe because the anxiety of being intimidated of both guardians would probably tear him apart – but he did. At least to the point where he doubted she’d hit him or leave him or beat him or degrade him or hurt him. She didn’t seem like the kind of person, and he trusted that.

“N- No!” 

He stood up immediately, scaring Martha slightly as his eyes went wide.

“Alex, why-”

“J- Just… Please. Y- You can’t… I don’t want… I can’t.” Words evaded him and he quickly found his hands running over the top of his pulled-back hair.

“I don’t-” But as soon as she opened her mouth, George peeked his head back in, and Alex dropped his gaze to the floor.

Martha noticed, and hesitantly turned back to her husband.

“You guys decide anything yet?”

“Alex was thinking about getting a burger and a shake from the McDonalds across the street.” She paused, glancing back at Alex. “Do you think you could go grab us some food?”

“Yeah, sure, hon.” He smiled, quickly giving her a peck on the lips. “That all you want, Alex?”

Alex didn’t look up, but he didn’t need to. He somehow already knew that George’s face had fallen, and he shifted awkwardly as he nodded slowly. Martha connected the pieces.

And with that, George was off. Neither Alex nor Martha moved a muscle until the front door clicked shut, and the house was silent.

She refused to turn to look at him, and that only made him feel worse.

“You don’t need to be afraid of him, you know? George wouldn’t hurt a fly.” She promised softly.

“I… I know.” He crossed his arms protectively, and Martha finally turned to look at him. She smiled softly at him, and his heart warmed slightly, thankful that she wasn’t mad at him.

“He really is excited, and I know he’s a bit of a big guy, but really he’s just strong and silent with a dash of muscle.” 

Alex smiled slightly at that description and let out a breathy sigh. Martha smiled too, but Alex didn’t have time to answer before she turned and left the room, humming something Alex had never heard.

Dinner came and went – just as greasy and disgusting as Martha had described it, but Alex was too busy enjoying it to really care – and then there was a bit of a celebration, where there was a large cake and skinny candles and sparklers on the fire escape and honestly probably the most joy Alex had gotten out of life in a while.

He’d let his qualms about George disappear, and, to be honest, Martha was right. He really was just and interesting guy with a build that makes most people cower. 

But Alexander still couldn’t fight the flinch that he did every time George moved too fast.

And that whole mess of emotions was how Alexander ended up on the fire escape at five thirty in the morning, with his legs – clad in fresh pajama pants – dangling over the edge and his feet were left to hang in the open air of New York. 

There had been a low cloud of mist about an hour earlier, and he had allowed the remnants of rain to coat his eyelashes and dampen his shirt while also making the streets below dark and foggy and eerie, but now, there were only wisps of rainclouds in the pink sky.

And, for once, Alex doesn’t feel the need to be extra. It was just him, on a fire escape, at sunrise, in New York City, and if he strained his neck just enough, he could see the top few floors of the Empire state building without having to stand up. Sure, it was very, very far away, but it still meant something.

And, for once, he didn’t feel sad – and he’d barely known these people for a day! Alice was probably right, but he still had her number on speed-dial just in case.

And, for once, he could suck in a deep breath of air, and it didn’t burn, and it wasn’t to stop tears, and it wasn’t because his thoughts were overwhelming. He did it because he can. He finally had a moment to just stop and smell the roses – or, in this case, not-so-fresh New York City air – so he did, even if he wasn’t quite high-up enough to muffle the scent of asphalt and exhaust pipes from below him. 

And, for once, he had somewhere to call home.

And, for one, it’s a place he can count on.

The Washington’s are his new home. And he wanted them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOW! That took forever to finish! I'm so sorry, it's been like three weeks! Anyway, I hope you enjoyed that, I sure enjoyed writing it, and I promise (I haven't even started writing it) the next one will be up quicker than this one was!
> 
> Oh, and for those of you who were wondering, Peacock was the name of one of Alexander Hamilton's horses, and Ragman was one of Washinton's hunting dogs.


	3. You Simply Must Meet Thomas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Only Alexander Hamilton is capable of spilling water on someone on his first day.

It had been almost two weeks since Alex had last seen Nevis, and New York still seemed to be intent on surprising him.

To be fair, he’d seen most of these ‘Surprises’ back on Nevis, but never had they been so… Up-close and personal.

Whatever the hell a ‘Snow-cone’ was could be found just outside the front doors of the apartment complex, sold daily by a little old lady with a red-and-gold cart – Martha bought him one every day when they went for a walk, and he’d recently taken a liking to the lime one – restaurants where pizza cost anywhere between three dollars and two-hundred dollars littered the streets – he wished he was joking when he put that in an essay about New York, but just down the street was a place that sold pepperoni-and-gold-flaked pizza – and it seemed like you couldn’t go three blocks without finding some vegan coffee shop where each bean was imported from Chile and roasted to perfection or some shit.

He loved every minute of living in the bustling city, though, and that joy was doubled because of Martha and George. The Washington’s only seemed to get nicer and nicer, which utterly confused him. He had been convinced that after living with the pair for almost a week they would be sick of his shit and he would either be thoroughly ignored or consigned to his room until further notice.

But there were no shouts, no slaps, no bruises or yells or hits. Not even the slightest hint of anger.

There was just Martha, asking him how he’d slept every morning, and George, always managing to hand him a cup of tea an hour before bed. They were so nice, and Alex couldn’t help but smile a little whenever either of them called his name for something.

The doubts over how much they wanted him quickly faded – yet Alex still found it strange that he was letting people into his life with such little hesitation. Usually it took a few tries to get Alexander Hamilton to tell where he was from, and yet here he was, telling his foster parents how his mother had died or why his cousin committed suicide at such a young age.

Martha had even offered to let him stay home for another week and start school the following Monday if he wanted to.

But if there was one thing that Alexander Hamilton put his heart and soul into, it was school. 

Sure, he was often made fun of for having such dedication to something that was usually universally hated, but he couldn’t have cared less. He loved learning – usually because if he fought someone more ignorant than him, he’d win – but his school in Nevis hadn’t done the best job at making sure the curriculum was correct and/or enforced.

The school system on Nevis was shit and he had always said so. 

Back home, his school was a small, brick building – about the size of a regular house in the area, maybe smaller – and was meant to hold about twelve classes of sixteen students. It did not.

But it wasn’t like they had anyone to complain to, of course. Who was going to listen to a bunch of poor, public-school kids? Government officials?!

Alexander laughed bitterly at the thought.

The Legal system on that God-forsaken island had about $12 in the Federal Reserve and a Prime Minister who could barely spell his own name. Alexander had always said that his right shoe would do a better job at leading, and he was probably right.

Their school somehow scraped by, though. The classroom system failed early-on, however, so it was usually two teachers in one room, teaching all four subjects to a group of thirty-five obnoxiously loud-mouthed 16-year-olds. Alexander had the highest grades in his entire school, but that wasn’t exactly saying much. It wasn’t rare for his class to just watch a movie for the entire period and ‘Reflect On What They Learned’ afterwards.

New York, once again, seemed to easily one-up Nevis, and Alexander was glad.

He wanted to start school as early as possible – it had only been about a month since school had started for everyone else in New York, and there was a very slim chance that any teacher would give him a grace period like that. Usually it was kids who showed up in the middle of the year that got to ignore the work from all the rest of the term and just focus on whatever was happening now, but it had only been four weeks for Alex, and he dreaded to think of all that make-up work.

George had even offered to drive him and, while he wasn’t as scared of the man as he’d initially been, there was still a slight sense of dread that tugged at his mind as he thought about being stuck in a tight space with him. 

Technically, he didn’t like being in tight spaces with anyone, but his thoughts digressed.

Martha ended up offering to drive him, thankfully, and, while it meant he didn’t have to worry about George, he still couldn’t settle the twisty, fluttery feeling in his stomach. He tugged at the sky-blue sleeves of his hoodie as more and more shops began to pass by the window in a blur. Shades of green and yellow and purple passed by as Alex’s stomach churned.

He even began counting the kids that were walking to school. First, there was only a group of three younger-looking girls. Then it was two groups of four boys, then three lone walkers, and then a large group of six, rowdy-looking seniors. 

But soon, the counting wore off, and there weren’t groups anymore. Just an incredibly large swam of children that suddenly coated the grounds; either piling off of busses, fumbling out of cars, hopping off bikes, or smiling and laughing along with some friends as they walked. 

His heart skipped a beat.

There it was. 

_Yorktown High School_

And it was gigantic. 

Huge windows lined the bricked sides of the building, stretching all the way up the four stories. Two sets of large staircases connected the courtyard of the school to the sidewalk, and a sloping flowerbed full of vibrant, fresh flowers stood between them. The granite base of a proud, bronze eagle statue stood in the center of the flowerbed, and large, shining sliver letters spelled out the schools name under its outstretched wings. It was all stunningly illuminated as the yellow gloss of sunlight climbed out from the shadows and hit the statue, and Alexander fought the urge to take a picture. The cement courtyard above housed green, outdoor lunch tables and a few vending-machines, and the shadow that was cast by the large American flag overhead waved lazily as teenagers buzzed lively from where they sat, either at or on top of the tables.

Alexander sucked in a breath as the car inched towards the drop-off portion of the sidewalk.

“How did you sleep last night?” Martha asked softly, obviously trying to pass the time and distract Alex from his destructive thoughts.

“Oh, uhm… Okay, I guess.” He shrugged, chewing on his lip as he stared out the window.

“On the floor again, huh?” Martha chuckled slightly, recalling when she’d walked into Alex’s room the day after he got here to find him asleep on the sky-blue rug next to his bed. Then it happened the next night, and the next, and the next, and now Martha was starting to accept that Alex had led a rough life in the past, and she wouldn’t force him to like something. Her only complaint was that it hurt his back, and it didn’t help that Alex answered her confrontation with, “I’ve been through worse”.

“I’m just not used to such fluffy mattresses.” 

Martha chuckled again, and then there was a small pause.

“You can always stay home another day if you want, you know.” She offered quietly, watching Alex’s expressions contort as he mentally battled himself over what he would say today, how he would make friends, and how he was to keep his anxiety under control for the rest of the day. Hell, he could already feel his breathing constrict as he watched lights flick on in the classrooms as more and more teachers arrived to start their day.

“Oh, n- no, Martha. It’s fine – I’ll be fine.” He shook his head as they climbed closer and closer to the school, and he began studying the interior of the car to try and calm his nerves. George’s car was very nice, which wasn’t a surprise, based on the lives Martha and George led with such diligence. 

Alex was quick to pick up on the fact that George had a very high position in the governmental systems of New York – it wasn’t hard to figure that out, though, due to the calendar in the kitchen always being littered with red pen-marks saying ‘Tax Return Engagement Scandal panel, Sun. Sept. 14th’ and ‘School Board meeting 8:30-12:45’ – and he hated to acknowledge the possibility that he’d just get lobbed in with the ‘Rich boy’ category. He mentally snorted at that. The poor Caribbean boy who once didn’t know where his next meal was coming from was suddenly the foster-kid of some rich Government official. It sounded like a bad 90’s Disney movie.

“Are you sure? It’s not too late to turn and go home if you don’t want to go today.” It sounded less like she was trying to convince Alex that it would be okay and more like she was relaying the information to herself for the hundredth time.

“Martha, I’ll be fine. Honestly. And I’ll be back before you know it, right? It’s only seven hours.” Martha sniffled slightly at Alex’s comment as they pulled up to the sidewalk. “Hey, wait, Martha, I didn’t mean-”

But she quickly turned back to face him with tears brimming in her eyes, and pulled him into a tight hug from the driver’s seat.

He knew she was hiding her tears and quiet sobs in his shoulder, but he didn’t mind. His mother had cried when he’d gone off to Kindergarten, too. 

He felt Martha pat his back slightly as the smell of vanilla and cinnamon enveloped him, and the fuzzy part of her cream sweater tickled his nose slightly. 

“Martha?”

“Mhmm?”

“You’re squishing me.” He chuckled airily. 

She let go quickly, breathing a teary apology as the car behind them honked, effectively scaring the shit out of Alexander. He took a deep breath, gathered up his backpack and phone, and pulled the handle for the door to open, only to have Martha put a hand on his shoulder before he could get out.

“Oh, wait, uhm… Before you go, I, uh… Here… I made you a little something.” She practically shoved the seemingly-full, brown paper bag into his grip. “I know, I know, you’re a Junior now, you don’t need me to make your lunch, but I just thought, since it’s your first day and all-”

Alex didn’t hesitate to wrap her into another we-have-to-lean-across-an-awkward-amount-of-space-to-do-this-but-neither-of-us-care hug, and the guy behind them honked again.

Alex shoved the lunch into his bag, pulled the silver handle of the door again, and ran out before he could change his mind.

He turned back and waved sheepishly at Martha, who blew an air-kiss through the open window of her car, and he felt happy-tears prick at his eyes. Jesus, when was the last time you cried because you were happy, Alexander?

But the car line quickly moved forward, and George’s shiny red car drove off down the street.

It had been two weeks since Alexander had been truly alone, but now the sinking feeling that accompanied being by himself crept up his spine and down to his toes.

 _Alright,_ he assessed, turning to face the daunting school. _First order of business: Find your locker. Should be easy enough, right?_

He jogged up the stairs – careful to use the railing so he didn’t trip and face-plant on the first day – and made his way across the courtyard of bustling people – at one point, even having to dodge a can of soda that was being hurled across the cement – until he eventually made it inside the brick building.

Outside was definitely more crowded than inside.

He’d had to weasel his way through the collection of people outside, but here, you could hear every step he took. He prayed that he’d have at least one friend by Friday so he wouldn’t have to keep walking alone through an empty school like this.

He was halfway up the second staircase when a shrill bell sounded over his head, echoing down the staircase and buzzing through the halls, making him jump. The sound of hundreds of kids chattering away with each other and clobbering up the stairs soon sounded from below him, and he quickly found the incentive to find his locker.

He got off at the third floor, and gladly speed-walked down the sea of red, white, and blue-painted lockers, examining each number without much care until his number drew closer, and he slowed down.

_1774… 1775… 1776!_

He quickly unhooked his floppy, cranberry-red backpack from his shoulder, only to dig around in it for a moment before pulling out a small slip of paper. 

_7-12-04_

The thin, blue locker swung open to reveal a bare, cream-painted interior, with only tiny pencil shavings on the bottom to indicate that anyone had even opened this locker before. He stuffed the nice lunch Martha had made onto the shelf at the top and hung his bag on the hook, beginning to pull out whatever books he’d need for the day.

 _AP Governmental Debate, Trigonometry, Chemistry, AP English Literature, French III_ – he was thankful that he didn’t have a book for any of his electives, though, because the four pound stack that he already held under his arm was bad enough.

The bell that had rung on his way up the stairs indicated that school had started, leaving him thirty minutes to get to his first class, and then five to get to every other class during the day. Well, on normal day’s that was. George had driven to the school a few days ago to get Alex’s ‘Welcome Packet’, which included instructions on where to find the tour guide that would show Alex around of the school and wait outside his class every day for a week to help him find his way around. He would never admit it, but he really was thankful for the help, even if it wasn’t much.

It wasn’t until then that a voice made itself know.

“Move; I need to get to my locker.”

Alexander almost dropped his books. 

He hadn’t even seen the boy approach, and it didn’t help that he was already tense. His Trig book managed to fall however, sending papers everywhere and landing dangerously close to his foot. Whoever this guy was didn’t seem to be the best at first impressions.

Alex whirled around to find an exceedingly tall boy, with lightly-toned, dark skin, and an afro that sent curls in every direction like springs. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days, his eyes baggy, and a look of ‘I don’t want to be here; talk to me and I will literally hit you with my kitchen sink’ was plastered to his features. A blinding magenta hoodie hung off his body, and one hand was tucked into the center-pocket of the jacket; the other lazily rubbing his eye. His legs were clad in light-blue jeans, ripped at the knees, and expensive-looking shoes shined on his feet; hell, even his backpack was annoyingly hooked onto his shoulder with one strap. Rich assholes – the bane of Alexander’s existence. 

Everything about this guy screamed douchebag.

In fact, he was so startled by the boy he forgot to be cynical for a moment, before letting his eyes adjust to the boy in front of him, mildly disgusted with what he found. 

“O- Oh! Uhm… S- Sorry.” _Nice fucking job, Alex, you’ve been here for all of ten minutes and you’re already pissing people off._

Alex shuffled over to give the boy room to get to his locker, and just begged for his hands to shove the papers that had fallen out of his Trig book back in so he could get out of this possible conversation. He wouldn’t have minded a little help from the boy who had made him drop it, but it was his first day, and he barely had the courage to look another human in the eye, let alone chew them out for something they probably didn’t mean to do.

“Don’t think I’ve seen you around.”

The boy didn’t bother to make eye-contact with Alexander as he spoke to him, which left him waiting for a reply as Alexander kept quiet to make sure he was talking to him. A quick glance at the smaller teen acknowledged him, and Alexander could feel his frustration rise.

“That’s because you haven’t, Sherlock.”

The conversation paused as the boy clicked his locker open, revealing the crowded interior of the red-painted locker, full of wadded-up, brightly-colored sweaters, crumpled pieces of paper, and thick binders. Large pieces of what seemed to be black wrapping paper lined all three inside walls of the locker, but the inside of the door was covers in polaroid pictures of the boy and quite a few other people – the only recurring figure in the pictures seemed to be a large, dark-skinned boy in a tan turtleneck, with short, dark hair, and a small smile tugging at his lips in any picture where he was near the boy who owned the locker. Cursive dates were scrawled on the bottom of some of them, but most had phrases such as _‘Charles Lee can suck a dick’_ or _‘Jemmy waz here’._

“The name’s Jefferson. Thomas Jefferson. Though, I wouldn’t doubt that my mental capabilities rival that of the great Sherlock Holmes.” He smirks slightly, shoving his backpack into the locker before digging through it.

“Great…” Alex mumbled, unimpressed, as he put his last sheet away and stood up.

“And you would be…?” His voice sounds snarly and somewhat impatient, as if Alex was the one pressing for answers. This guy really didn’t seem to get the memo that Alexander didn’t want to talk.

“Alexander. Alexander Hamilton.”

But as soon as those words left his mouth, a loud ‘Thud’ next to him made him jump.

A cold feeling splashed over his feet, and both boys were quick to stumble backwards.

Alex knew what happened without looking at the ground, and immediately he regretted not making sure his lunch was safely put into his locker.

A half-empty, clear water bottle, broken open after falling cap-down onto the hard floors, rolled next to Alexander’s feet, still flooding the white-and-red tiled floor with water. The bottoms of Alexander’s jeans were quickly going cold, soaked from the splash the bottle had made when it fell.

“What the fuck?!” Jefferson’s voice was harsh, and Alex dreaded to look up at him.

His heart thumped in his chest and he could feel his throat tighten.

Jefferson’s shoes were shining and soaked now, and his light-colored jeans were dark with water from the knees down.

“O- Oh, m- my God, h- holy shit, I- I’m so s- sorry-”

“You son of a bitch, look what you did to my fucking jeans!” Jefferson snapped, looking down at his jeans in utter shock before looking back up at Hamilton and snarling. 

Alexander couldn’t help it; he flinched. He felt the color drain from his face as he stumbled backwards against the locker, his back hitting the door and making it clang against the locker next to him. He was almost certain Jefferson was going to hit him – the sense of dread that filled him was easily comparable to when his father used to raise his hand to strike his son.

He cracked his eyes open after a moment of cowering back to find Jefferson staring at him like he’d just grown horns. Alex began stumbling over his word to apologize, but Jefferson interrupted him by simply shaking his head in disbelief and scoffing as he pulled a book out of the backpack and slamming the locker, making Alex flinch.

“Of course they’d put me next to some fucking insane Spik who can’t even keep a fucking water bottle intact…” Jefferson was mumbling to himself as shoved his way through the crowd, pushing through shorter kids and marching his way through groups of people.

 _Who the fuck did this guy think he was?!_ Alex had gone from wanting to punch him to thinking that he was going to punch Alex. The only time that Alex could remember feeling this way was when he was getting on the plane to New York; he recalled one of the scary-ass buff security guards that had been instructed to tow behind the group of 5-18 year-olds telling a kid to walk faster, only to have the kid trip in front of him, and his hand was slapped across the poor 6-year-olds face. Alex was all up in the man’s face within three seconds, barking insults and spitting profanity at the man until he raised his hand once more, and Alex flinched so hard he fell backwards. The rest of the trip to the plane went without a hitch.

Alex had been hit a lot in his life, metaphorically and literally, and he didn’t need this piece of shit human-trash-fire to add to his pain.

He shuddered, scoffed slightly, sighed, and stood up once again, shutting the locker with his foot and gathering his dropped books.

Well, Alexander could safely and sarcastically say that this year was off to a _wonderful_ start. Only Alexander Hamilton was capable of managing to spill water on someone – the boy with the locker next to him, not matter – on his first day. 

His shoes squeaked against the tiled floors and left a wet footprint behind him for about thirty steps. 

He made a mental note to either ignore the boy or avoid him for the rest of the year. 

Thomas Jefferson needed to stay the fuck out of his way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, someone really needs to protect this poor bean I swear. Also yes gold flaked pizza is a real thing I will fight you on this and yes I stooped low enough to make his legal death date his locker combo don't judge.


	4. The Revolutionary Set

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while since Alex has had friends - in fact, he's not even entirely sure if the boy forced to spend the day with him would be considered a friend - but he's grateful for them, even if they do tend to fight. A lot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So these next few chapters go a bit fast? I don't know why - this isn't how I usually write chapters, no idea what changed - so I'm sorry if these seem like they don't go at a normal-ish pace (Not that life goes at a regular pace but whateves). They get back on track eventually, sorry!!!

_Okay, next mission; find the art hallway..._ The art hallway was where the tour guide was supposed to meet Alex, but this seemed backwards, given that he needed the tour guide to help him find the art department in the first place.

_Right, left, three rights, go straight, down a floor, up two floors, down to the bottom floor, a right, a left, another right-_ a painting!

After the first shitty painting of a lion almost smacked him in the face due to how fast he turned the corner, he followed the trail of still-life’s and masks that would easily give the wearer nightmares, to find a large hall, full of dozens of bustling teenagers.

_Okay, who here looks like a guide?_

He hated being so short. Standing on his tip-toe, he still couldn’t see over half of the people in the hall. Everybody he could see, however, seemed to have somewhere go. Six open doors, presumably leading into the different art classrooms, lined the walls of the hall, and the stream of kids going in was constant. Alex had to dodge the ones with posters sticking out from under their arms, and was almost hit in the head with a large piece of plywood. Everything here was so busy, he barely had time to breathe.

Another bell rang, and the hall was cleared in a matter of seconds.

Except for one boy on the other side of the hall.

His eyes were closed as he rested against the wall, one of his legs bent with his foot propped casually on the wall as well. His head was tilted backwards, and, to be honest, without the constant rise and fall of his chest, Alex would’ve thought that he was a statue, made by one of the art kids.

The boy was much taller than Alexander – it wasn’t hard to be, but Alex was getting kind of sick of being the shortest at this new school – and had the same skin color as Jefferson; if not lighter. Alex’s skin was tan, sandy almost, meanwhile this boy had the skin color of baking cocoa.

A form-fitting, white tank-top that showed off his defined muscles underneath was covering his chest, with black, sparkly, cursive letters laid over it, reading, _“KINKSHAMING IS MY KINK”_. Alex snickered. A plum-purple, loose-knit cardigan sat lazily on his shoulders, hanging down to his knees and slipping off on one side and showing off a tan shoulder. Honestly, he looked stoned.

Alex took a deep breath and hesitantly made his way across the empty hall to the boy.

As he got closer, he began to notice little things about the other teen. A large, dried splotch of green paint was entwined with his hair, and a yellow mark of paint was swiped across his cheek, not to mention his hands, which were stained multiple shades of purple. He’s definitely from this part of the school, Alex thought, looking around at the paintings of houses and bowls of fruit that lined the cream-colored walls.

Mascara coated his lashes, and the slightest hint of blush was dusted on his cheeks. Alex liked this guy already.

“H- Hello?” Alexander asked nervously, and the boy’s eyelids immediately flicked open to reveal sparkling, chocolate-colored eyes. His face immediately looked puzzled, and Alex’s heart sank as he realized that this might not be his guide. _What if this guy was just here, refusing to go to class? Or maybe he was waiting for somebody else? What if he’s just in a free period or something?_

Alexander took a small step back, startled by the suddenness of the other teen’s response, and began stumbling to find an apology for disturbing him, yet the other teen only let out a low chuckle.

“ _Bonjour!_ ” The other boy smiled, a thick, French accent blanketing his voice.

“Uh… Hi?” Alexander reiterated, hoping he didn’t sound too much like a broken record.

The boy laughed, tilting his head back and letting out a hearty chuckle that filled the empty hall. Alex glanced around nervously to make sure nobody would come out and yell at them, but no one did. The only response the boys laugh got was the muffled roll call that could be heard through the closed door next to them pausing slightly.

“I presume you are Alexander?” His French accent made it sound more like ‘Alexandre’, but he didn’t mind. He'd been called worse.

“O- Or Alex, I don’t mind either.” He smiled sheepishly as he corrected the boy, rubbing the back of his neck and staring at the floor.

“Duly noted, _Monsieur. Je m’pelle, Lafayette._ Or Laf, whatever you wish to say is fine.” He said, doing a small curtsy and smiling broadly.

“…Lafayette?” _That can’t possibly be someone’s real name._

“ _Oui._ You should hear the rest of it.” Lafayette smirked, and Alex got the feeling that that was a joke that he didn’t get.

The Fine Arts hall, which was apparently where they were, didn’t seem as big without dozens of kids bustling around. Laf showed the shorter teen what seemed to be every painting the school had to offer, even a few of his own, which were honestly pretty nice-looking. One particular portrait of Laf’s was of a sunset, and Alexander immediately fell in love with it. Swirls of blue and pink and purple surrounded a yellow-orange blob, with grassy hills and trees covering the plains below. He remembered a spot like that in Nevis, actually, just outside the library.

He missed sitting up in that tree and watching the sunset.

Next was the Auditorium, with almost fifty rows of seats in front of the large, dark stage. “ _Mon Amie_ Eliza has show’s here some of the time. You should join us on an occasion to see her girlfriend sing – Maria has the most beautiful voice I have ever heard.” Laf eyed the stage with wonder, as if remembering something. “I played Marius in ‘Les Misérables’ last year – mostly because I was the only one who could correctly pronounce his name, but still. Eliza says I was very good.” His chest puffed up with pride as his eyes twinkled.

After that, Alex trailed behind the giggling French teen as they raced up every staircase they could find, stomping as loudly as they could and then bolting down whatever hallway they ended up in. “Do not tell Mrs. Adams that I am running up the stairs,” Laf chuckled airily as they take a second to catch their breath outside the library doors. “I am supposed to be professional, _non_?”

“I imagine so.” Alex laughed, bent over with his chest heaving, his hands on his knees.

Once they’d caught their breath, however, they were back to pelting through the halls, passing Alex’s classes on the way and pausing for a moment so that he knew where the classrooms were, and then running to wherever Laf’s classes were so that Alex knew where to come after class to meet the French teen.

The main stairs thundered with Laf’s footsteps as the third bell rang, and Alex was glad that the French teen had pulled him down the stairs before everyone else pushed their way down.

“Lafayette! Laf!”

A voice called at the pair as they made their way to the science hallway. Laf held out an arm, stopping Alex as the taller boy looked around at the bustling kids around him, apparently trying to pick out where the voice had come from.

“Laf, who are you-”

“Herc! Over here!” Whoever it was that had called to Lafayette had obviously gotten his attention, as Laf was now standing on the toes of his black-and-red checkered shoes, looking out over the crowd of bustling teens.

A boy emerged from the crowd, seemingly after pushing his way through, and Lafayette broke into a toothy grin.

He was broad-shouldered, tall, and looked like he could bench-press a taxi. The grin on his face melted that façade, however, and almost made him look… Soft? Not in a bad way, of course, just in the way that Alexander felt like this guy cooed over babies and puppies the same way Martha did. His dark skin matched his dark eyes and dark hair, and defined muscles could be seen under a _‘BLACK! LIVES! MATTER!’_ shirt, accompanied by dark-grey cargo shorts, and a gray beanie. Alex liked this guy as well.

The new boy almost tripped over someone on his way over, however, and Laf was quick to run over to catch him before he fell, only to spin him around plant a kiss on his lips.

Alexander had never had a problem with gay couples.

In fact, in all honesty, Alexander had had a few crushes on some of the guys at his school before.

But this…

A swipe of yellow was on the new boy’s dark cheek. His hands were stained varying amounts of purple. And, even though Lafayette’s arms were still covered by his long, purple cardigan, this new boy had markings all over his arms, in any shade of fine-point Sharpie you could think of. He didn’t doubt Laf had them too.

Soulmates.

Lafayette had a soulmate. This new boy had a soulmate.

Alex had forgotten about his situation until now, and nervously tugged at his sleeves. A pit formed in his stomach. He’d been having so much fun – why did he convince himself that Laf didn’t have a soulmate? _That was rude and inconsiderate and of course he does, everyone does, Alexander, you’re just a freak who will never have-_

“Alexander, this is Hercules Mulligan, my boyfriend!” Lafayette’s giggles as Hercules snaked his hand around the French teen’s waist made Alex feel sick. Hercules stuck out his hand.

“Your soulmate?” Alex’s voice was feeble, and his handshake was weak.

“Oui! Is it not wonderful?” Laf smiled happily, practically bouncing at this point.

_This._ Alexander thought. _You’re just a freak who will never have this. Pure joy, someone who loves you no matter what, someone you can count on and talk to and have fun with._

He had barely even taken in what Laf had said by the time the taller teen had noticed Alexander’s sudden silence.

“Alexander? Are you alright?” Laf’s eyebrows were knitted together when Alex looked up, almost like he was actually worried about Alex.

“Huh? Oh, nothing, I uhm… Nothing, it’s fine.” He shook his head and looked over Laf’s shoulder, indicating that he would rather go see more of the school than be asked any more questions. “Where to next?”

“We could go on to the gym, if you wish.” Laf offered, hiking a thumb to point down the hallway to the left of them.

“Sure.”

“Oh, were you giving him the tour? Are you new here?” He asked, intertwining his hand with Laf. Alex looked away from the PDA, hoping they wouldn't think he was some kind of homophobic asshole.

“Uhm, yeah… I just-” He paused. He’d never been confronted with the question of where he’d come from. What was he supposed to say? _‘Oh, yeah, my entire family was wiped out on some shitty island so now I’m here’_. “Moved,” He settled on. “I just moved here from the Caribbean.”

Laf suddenly gasped, looking over his map, and met Alexander’s gaze with slightly widened eyes. “It would appear your schedule is wrong, _Mon Ami_. My classes are in blue, and yours in _rouge_ -”

“Red, Laf. It’s in red.” Herc corrected.

“Oui, sorry, yours are in red, but for science, mine are in red and yours in blue – _Merde_ , I should fix this – stay here, okay? I’ll be back within the minute.” His hand went from nervously tugging at his pulled-up hair to thumbing through the papers with frazzled eyes.

“We’ll be here…” Alex mumbled, earning a small, stressed smile from Lafayette. Laf turned on his heel, still rifling through his papers, and weaved through the crowd until he was out of sight.

“So… The Caribbean, huh?” Hercules asked as soon as Laf left, trying to make conversation. “For what, your parent’s job or something?” Hercules hadn’t meant it rudely, Alex knew that, but he still winced slightly.

“N- No, I… There was a hurricane and the foster care system kind of fell there, so… Here I am, I guess?” Alex couldn’t meet his gaze as he spoke, a heavy weight suddenly on his heart.

There was a pause as Herc looked around before crossing the hall of bustling kids and leaning on the wall of the other side with Alexander in tow, wanting to get out of the way of a loud group of kids.

“You should meet the Schuylers,” Alexander was surprised at how well Hercules continued the conversation without the pity-glances that he normally got, and he was really glad of it. “Peggy and Eliza have both gone through the system; you’d probably hit it off with them.”

Alex felt anger immediately bubble in his stomach and took a defensive stance.

“Why? So you can put all us foster and orphaned kids into a group? Too hard for you to see us as anything but orphans, huh?! ‘Cause I got news for you, pal, we’ve all been in and out of the system and don’t need another asshole to push us around and tell us who we’re going to be with and what we’re going to do or who we’re going to be because we hear enough shit from the homes we’re shoved into and _I dare you to say that again_ -”

“Woah, woah, easy little dude. I didn’t mean it that way. If you want to talk to her about being in the system, fine by me. But you did just confirm my point.” Hercules smirked.

“I’m sorry?”

“You have a brain that would rival that of Angelica, a mouth to match Peggy’s – try not to get sent to the office as much as her, though, she can’t keep her trap shut – and Eliza’s known for standing up for others – you should’ve seen her last month, she got on the tables at lunch and poured a cup of peaches on Seabury’s head because he called Peggy a slut. Angelica was a force to be reckoned with after that – didn’t see Seabury for almost two weeks after she found out what he’d said. All I’m saying is that they’d really like you.”

“What makes you think I stand up for others?!” Alexander did stand up for others, but he was still riled up from Hercules’ comment, and was not in the mood to be told what he thought.

“You didn’t say ‘I’ in your speech just then. You said ‘We’.” He smirked.

Alex opened his mouth to say something, but Lafayette quickly re-emerged from the crowd, pushing his way through a group of flirtatious girls, sighing something in French as he approached the pair, handing Alex a newly marked-up map, and smiling slightly.

“Good?” Herc asked his boyfriend.

“Good. To the gym!” He pointed off down the left hallway again, and off they went.

“You don’t have a class, Hercules?” Alex inquired as they trailed behind Lafayette, who had essentially turned into a human snow-plow.

“Mrs. Ross could care less whether I show up for Home Ec. We’re just sewing shirts today – I finished mine weeks ago.”

“Hercules is very good at sewing. I would not put it past him to start a clothing line at some point in his life.” Laf smiled over his shoulder at the boys, and a pink blush spread over Hercules’ cheeks.

The gym wasn’t much more than Alexander was expecting. Ceilings that reached up two floors and almost the size of a football field, there wasn’t much to look at. Shiny, hardwood floors that probably made your sneakers squeak when you ran on them supported white paint, peeking out from underneath the lacquer to form the outside lines of a basketball court. Fold-out, blue bleachers stood on the left side of the large gymnasium, and basketballs littered the floor.

“Bit morbid, isn’t it?” Hercules grunted, looking over the empty, fluorescently-lit gym. “Couldn’t we have come when there was a class was here?” He chuckled slightly, his laugh bouncing off every wall and scaring Alexander half to death.

“We could have, yes, but then we would not be able to do this!” Lafayette took a running start from behind Alexander, and did a perfect cartwheel, almost slipping as the long back of his cardigan fell over his eyes. Next, it was Herc’s turn, who demonstrated jumping high enough to reach the basketball-hoop as Alex sat on the top of the bleachers and watched, swinging his legs slightly as Laf bounced around perfectly and Hercules kicked around a soccer ball that had been laying around.

“You should join us, Alex! It is fun-looking, non?”

“No, no, you two have fun, I’m good just watching.” He chuckled as Laf managed a one-handed hand-stand. “Laf, where did you lean to move like that?! I’ve never seen smoother landings!”

“I was cheer captain in my freshmen year.” He giggled back, tuck-and-rolling across the gym and popping out like a surprised animal, landing perfectly on-point.

“You? Cheer captain? Do they even allow that here?” Alex asked, hopping off the bleachers to approach his panting friends. Back on Nevis, it was a strictly-girls team, and anything else would be considered wrong. A lot was considered wrong on Nevis.

“After seeing Laf? I’m surprised they weren’t _begging_ you to be on the team…” Laf and Herc shared a quick kiss, and Laf smiled.

“Were you any good?” Alex asked, nonchalantly.

“Was he any good? Was he any good?! He was only the best this district had to offer, I’ll tell you that! We should show him the trophy, Laf!” Hercules’ eyes sparkled as Laf mulled it over, eventually nodding in agreement.

“But only to let Alex know that I am amazing.” Laf chuckled, heading for the large gym doors. _Ever so modest._

The trophy case was a large glass box just outside the doors to the gym that held dozens of sparkling gold trophies. Tiny statues of men and women fishing, playing tennis, and doing very active things stood on top of marble-looking blocks and gold, metal-plated pillars.

"There, at the back, see? _Gilbert de La Fayette_. Ces’t moi.” He smirked proudly, puffing up his chest and buffing his fingernails against his shirt.

“Woah… Well I didn’t think-”

Before Alex could finish his sentence, however, a new voice toppled down the hallways, echoing off the manila-painted walls and making all three boys snap their heads towards the end of the hallway.

“Ayo, you can’t fucking say that shit! Get the fuck out of my face!” It was an angry, unknown voice, obviously pissed at someone else, but, for some reason, both of the other boys tensed immediately, their faces falling.

“You son of a fucking bitch! Get his hands!” Another high-pitched voice screeched, and the loud slam of something hitting the metal locker doors was heard. Shouts and yells were heard, and Alexander had a good idea of what was going on. He’d seen enough fights to know what a gathering, jesting crowd sounded like.

Herc piped up from behind Alex, making the shorter boy jump as his low voice resonated around the three of them, staring at the end of the hall and waiting for something – anything – to happen.

“That didn’t sound like…” He whispered, casting a glance at Laf.

“N- Non, he would not-”

Laf couldn’t even finish his sentence before the second voice was heard again, and a chorus of yells and shouts resonated down the hall, sending Laf and Herc into action with Alexander at their heels, much more timid than the other two, who looked ready to kill.

“Get the fuck off me, man, _get the fuck off me_!” Again, the pissed voice boomed down the hall.

“L- Lafayette? Hercules? What’s going on?!” Alex asked nervously as the trio made their way down the hall, emerging into the main hallway that connected all the different core-class branches and the three main staircases, as well as the bus-loading/unloading spot, and the car pick-up/drop-off on the opposite sides of the school.

Laf didn’t respond, scanning the area quickly a few times until finally settling on a large collection of juniors. Alex couldn’t see anything, but he could sure as hell hear it.

Grunts and punches, the sound of someone hitting the locker doors and rattling them loudly with each bang, resonated through the crowded hall. A horseshoe of people surrounded the fight, blocking Alex’s vision, but he could easily see that everyone had their phones out, taping the whole mess.

Lafayette was quick on his feet, pushing through the crowds of people that either bustled through the halls or surrounded the brawl. Alexander immediately chased after him with Hercules in tow.

Together, they managed to get to the front of the crowd of on-lookers to find a boy, about Alexander’s age, both arms held down by two taller boys, with a third delivering punch after punch to the poor boys stomach as he writhed in the grip of the two cronies.

Freckles dotted his pain-stricken face, like stars in the night sky, and his brown, bushy hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail. Hazel eyes squeezed shut with each punch, and thin limbs pushed against the grip of the two boys.

The second he weaseled his way through the crowd, Lafayette was pulling the guy delivering the blows off the freckled boy. Hercules, too, pushed past Alexander, and Alex backed up, knowing it was a bad idea to get in the middle of this. He stood at the very corner, right where the edge of the crowd met the lockers and watched in silence.

Herc managed to pry the two boys holding the freckled boy down off their victim, but he didn’t have a chance to hit them before they cowered behind the third boy, who stood tall and proud, with his arms crossed and a smug look plastered on his face.

“You have had your fun, King, now leave before I do something I would rather not do.” Laf was easily looming over the boy, but the boy barely even blinked, the smug looked staying plastered to his face.

“Hurt me? You? Hurt me?! Hah! What, you think I’m scared of you, Frenchie?” The boy snarled, prodding Laf’s chest with two fingers as the two boys behind him snickered. Laf took a step back slightly and Alex wanted to just go up and slap this kid, but something told him not to, that that was a very bad idea.

“King!” Herc’s voice bounced around the hall the minute this boy – King – touched Laf, making Alexander flinch and everyone in the vicinity jump. The number of people recording this seemed to double by the second. ”Touch him again. _I fucking dare you_.” Herc growled, stepping in front of Lafayette in a protective stance, as the freckled boy stumbled slightly, sporting a bloody nose.

“Oh? What’re you going to do? Hit me? Go on then. Hit me, Hercules. Hit me!”

Alex would’ve like nothing better than to just slap the boy right then and there.

And he didn’t doubt that Hercules wanted to as well.

_So why didn’t he?_

Herc dodged the request, instead turning to Lafayette and the freckled boy as they stood at Herc’s side. “You sure you two are okay? We should just go.” Herc asked, shaking his head and refusing to acknowledge King. The two of them nodded, but Freckles looked like he was about to pass out any second, holding onto Lafayette’s shoulder for dear life.

Lafayette and Hercules nodded to each other, and began to hobble back over to Alexander.

But, before they reached him, King and his two accomplices managed to step in front of them, switching positions from earlier, with Alex’s friends now backing towards the crowd and King and his buddies with their backs to the lockers, essentially turned away from Alex.

“I’ve heard the story about your mother, Hercules,” That stopped Hercules dead in his escape attempt. “What position are you in to fight someone who could sue you out of your fucking home. Or car – I’m not sure what you live in nowadays. How is mommy, anyway, Hercules? Still trying to scrape together money to keep her pathetic heart beating?” Hercules was fuming at this point and Alex could see Lafayette pulling on his arm and muttering things in his ear while trying to catch his eyes as he simultaneously kept trying to push the snarling, dizzy freckled-boy behind him.

“What are you going to do about it, Mulligan? Go on, give me a nice one. A nice punch – right to the jaw. Come on.” The two guys behind King cackled as Herc gritted his teeth, watching King tap his jaw with a smug look on his face. Laf even tried to get in front of him to push him back, but Herc wouldn’t budge.

“You son of a fucking bitch, I’ll fucking hurt you-”

“Boys?” His two cronies immediately started towards the other three boys at the snap of Kings fingers. Laf quickly got in a defensive position and Alex could see the absolute rage in Herc’s eyes, but also didn’t doubt that the two boys advancing on his friends had switchblades in their pockets.

His mind raced as he thought of what to do. He needed a distraction; he needed something to take the attention off his tour guide and company.

__He quickly pried off one of his shoe, and threw it._ _

He managed to hit George right between the shoulder-blades.

Lafayette gasped, immediately trying to go to Alex, but the cronies kept them in place, as shocked look on both their faces. Herc stared at Alex with bewildered eyes, and then went back to staring at King, wondering what was happening next. The freckled boy was still swaying harshly, though, only adding to the reasons he threw his shoe in the first place.

“King! Leave ‘em alone!” Alex yelled, stepping from the crowd.

Everything went quiet.

These were the only people he knew so far and he really thought they were pretty cool, so like hell was he going to let this scrawny beanpole looking ass motherfucker do something unforgivable to them. Hell, he just watched them knock out a friend of Lafayette’s, he felt like this was all justified. Alex could probably take this guy – assuming that he didn’t have a weapon on him, which he probably did – but a cold feeling rushed through his bones when he thought of how Martha and George would react. He had gotten in his fair share of fights in the foster-care system, and those had resulted in no dinner and a long, yelled lecture – probably a slap or two, as well, when he back-mouthed.

King cast a cold glare into the audience until his gaze rested on Alex and his eyes narrowed. And then… He laughed. He looked Alexander up and down with his eyes, and laughed.

“Oh, so you have an entourage now, do you?” King snarled back at Lafayette.

Laf suddenly went white and pushed himself in front of Hercules and John, only to be held back by the cronies once again. Hercules had a look of absolute terror plastered to his face, but the freckled boy swayed again, and suddenly fell right into Herc’s arms, earning a small “Merde,” from Laf and preventing either of them from fighting against the two other teens that now held them back.

“Please, King, he is new here, please- he did not know-”

King sauntered over to Alexander, ignoring the French teen’s cries, and towered over him easily, pushing him against the lockers harshly as Alex cowered, dreading the slap that always came with these kinds of things.

But it never came. Nothing. Not even a tap, or a degrading word, or a yell or… Anything.

Nothing.

“And who might you be?” Hot breath grazed Alex’s ear as King growled quietly.

“Uh- Uhm… Hamilton. A- Alexander Hamilton.”

“Well, Alexander…” He chuckled lowly. “I know you’re new here and all but… Let me give you a word of advice.” His hands trailed up the chest of Alex’s shirt until his hand slipped under Alex’s chin, forcing him to meet the other teen’s harsh, brown eyes.

“I own _everything_. My father owns this school, so I own the school. My father employs the staff, so I own the staff, but most importantly…” He smiled, leaning dangerously close to Alexander’s face so that Alex felt his hot breath against his cheek, and writhed under his grip. “I. Own. You. Don’t forget that, Alexander.” He growled, his hand traveling down the side of Alex’s body.

“Get off me.” Alex growled back.

“You think you’re _so_ scary, don't you? I believe this is yours?” King asked, placing one hand on the locker-door behind Alexander and taking the shoe from one of the other boys to hand it to Alexander. He smirked one last time and finally broke the intense stare-down the two had just had.

“ _Toodles_ , fuck-bags. Come on, boys.” He snapped his fingers at his friends, and they were immediately at his side, letting Alex breathe. The boys sauntered off, and Laf was at Alex’s side in an instant, placing a hand on his shoulder with worry in his eyes.

“What did he say to you? Are you okay? Did he touch you?” His eyebrows knit together in worry, but Alex just shook his head slightly, still confused over what had just happened.

“Uhm… No… He d- didn’t say anything. I’m fine – what about the boy?”

Laf nodded quickly and turned back to Herc to take the boy from his arms, muttering something to Hercules and pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. Herc nodded and practically sprinted down the hallway as Laf hooked one of the boy’s arms over his neck, and one of his arms around his middle-section to help him up.

“ _Mon Chou_ , can you walk?” Laf asked, taking a hesitant few steps with the weak boy on his shoulders, only to stumble and almost fall. The freckled teen tried to pull his arm away from Laf, but the stumble forced him to keep it there.

“I… I think I’m going to be sick, Laf.” He sounded defeated, yet still somehow angry.

“Alright, we should move you to the nurse-”

But the boy’s head shot up, showcasing bruised, freckled cheeks that shone with tears and the crimson sheen of blood.

“N- No, you can’t get the nurse! Please, I’m a Laurens, I’m supposed to just take this shit like a man. If I- I go to the nurse, they’ll call my dad; it- it won’t end well. Look, Herc’ll be back in a sec with some shit and then we- we can go to lunch, alright? It- It’ll be a normal day. Just give me a Band-Aid or something.”

“John, _Mon Ami_ , I do not think that-”

“Please, j- just take me to the bathroom, I- I won’t make it by myself.” The boy begged, grunting as he shifted his weight onto his other foot.

“I…” Laf looked ready to object, but the other boy gritted his teeth as if trying not to scream, and he sighed. “Alright. Come on then.”

Alexander didn’t really mind being ignored – he’d rather not cross Laf just in case he was still mad about throwing that shoe. He followed behind the pair of limping teens, holding the bathroom door open and helping Laf get his friend up onto the gray counter, sitting him between the two white, porcelain sinks.

Lafayette set to work immediately, dabbing at the boy’s blood-stained lip and wiping some cream over the split that his bottom lip had in it. Band-Aids were applied to every cut or scratch, and a wet paper-towel was held against any bruise. Lafayette carried around a messenger-bag, filled with what he assumed was books and stationery, and Alex was glad to know that it was also filled with medical supplies.

“What’d you say your name was?” The new boy grunted at Alexander as Laf dabbed at his bloody nose with a towel.

“Alexander. Alexander Hamilton.” Alex gave a sheepish smile.

“He’s new.” Laf added, his gaze not leaving a large purple bruise on John’s cheek.

“Wait, were you showing him around?!” Slight worry suddenly filled the boy's voice.

“Oui.” Laf didn’t seem very impressed by the boy’s actions, and Alex could see why. King was obviously a lot stronger – it was a stupid idea from the beginning, and it only ended in someone getting hurt.

“Oh shit, well, I’m, uh, sorry for fucking up your tour, then, Alex… Probably not the best first impression of- _Ow! Laf, what the fuck_?!” His sentence was interrupted as Laf hit a sensitive spot on his face.

“Hold still and it won’t hurt!” Lafayette hissed back.

“That’s what she said.” He grunted back, squeezing his eyes shut in pain.

Alexander chuckled. Even though he was probably in a world of pain, he still managed to get a ‘That’s what she said joke’ out through gritted teeth as Lafayette tried to clean the mess up.

Bruises ran down his soft cheekbones, darkening his thousands of star-like freckles, and a black ring was beginning to form around one of his hazel eyes. Alex didn’t know why, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to look away. He really just liked looking at this boy. John, Alex had learned. Alexander liked that name. It suited the freckled boy. John.

“I had to meet you at some point, right?”

“Touché, my friend.”

“But yes, John, you were right; you did interrupt our tour.” Laf sighed, put some more cream on John’s busted lip. “What were you thinking, taking on George King and his friends like that?! You cannot just-”

“Man, you should’ve hears the shit he was saying… I swear, it would’ve had Hercules on his feet.” He retorted.

Alex was surprised by this, and he imagined that Laf was too. Herc seemed like a pretty chill guy – whatever King had said, it must’ve been pretty bad.

Laf sighed and shook his head. “I should put makeup on this to cover it better-”

“Woah, whoa! Are you insane?! Yo, busted lip’s bad enough; imagine if I wore make-up home.” Laf sighed.

“But, John-”

“When Herc gets back, we’re going straight to lunch, okay?” Venom laced his voice, as if he was daring Lafayette to drag him to the nurse. Laf sighed again and shook his head as John slid off the counter with a grunt.

“Alright, but… The second anything hurts, you tell something.”

“ _Say something_.” John corrected, swaying slightly with Laf’s support. “And, yeah, I’ll try.”

Laf nodded thankfully as the bathroom door burst open with an incredible ‘Bang’, and Herc came running into the bathroom, carrying an array of bandages and ointments. He quickly dropped all of it onto the counter, grabbed a roll of bandage and a tube of ointment, and set to work doing what Laf couldn’t do with his small first-aid kit.

“What the actual fuck, Laurens?! You could’ve killed yourself! He could’ve really hurt you – you know we don’t put it past those guys to carry switchblades!” He fumed, swiping cream onto the bruises on his cheek.

“Yeah, well-”

“No, not ‘Yeah, well’! Why on Earth would you attack him like that! You know he doesn’t go anywhere without Lee or Seabury! You don’t stand a chance-”

“Hey, I got a few good punches in!” He defended, chuckling slightly. Hercules looked far from amused. “He, uh… He called Laf some things… Wasn’t gonna stand for it.” His voice got quieter.

There was a pause.

“What did he say?”

“Called him a whore, a couple other things… I couldn’t stand by and listen to that.” He snarled, and Alex could feel Laf tense-up next to him.

Hercules scoffed, looking John over one more time. “That was still an incredibly stupid thing – what if we’re not there next time?!” He sounded frustrated; like they’d had this conversation before.

“I won’t do it again, Herc! What else do you want me to say? It’s not my fault he got under your skin like that! It was my fight and I had it under control!”

Alex really didn’t like that they were both yelling at this point by now, the pair inches from each other’s faces, red with frustration.

“It didn’t look very controlled when we were ready to get our asses kicked for you!”

“You didn’t have to get in the middle of it!”

“Well maybe we won’t help you next time, you ungrateful-”

“Hercules!” Lafayette’s scold boomed through the bathroom, making Alex flinch and back up into the wall, screwing his eyes shut and taking in a sharp breath of air.

He looked back up for a moment to find all eyes on him, wide and worried. Everyone had gone quiet, and Alexander began stuttering a quiet apology, turning his gaze to the floor as they all turned back to John slowly.

John sighed, shaking his head, glancing at Laf and Alex for a moment but quickly returning his gaze to the floor. “S- Sorry…” He stuttered, stepping away from Hercules. “That… That was stupid of me. You’re right, I shouldn’t have taken on King. I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry for yelling.” Herc nodded, glancing at Laf, who stood with his arms crossed and reminded Alex of a mother whose children were told to apologize to one another.

“Can we go get lunch?” John asked quietly, fiddling with his hands as he stared at Laf, his gaze darting back to the medical supplies in Laf’s hand and on the counter.

Lafayette sighed for the zillionth time, looked John over once more, and stared at the bandage in his hand before smiling very slightly and nodding. “Alright, let’s go.” He shook his head somewhat disapprovingly as John practically bolted from the bathroom, Hercules at his heels, arms full of the supplies he had brought.

“Do you have anywhere to sit?” Lafayette asked casually as they left the bathroom, a shrill bell ringing over their heads.

“Oh, uhm…” Alexander thought back to who he had met today, but the only thing that came to mind was Jefferson, and how he spilled water on him earlier. “No…”

“Wonderful!” Laf grabbed his hand before he could protest and pulled him through the newly-formed swarm of kids. “You must sit with us then, non?”

“Oh, uh… Okay?” _Did I just make a friend? Is this how friends are made?_

Laf pulled him all the way upstairs, fiddling with his locker - 1834 - before pulling out a brown sack-lunch and cramming all of his other stuff into its place. Crumpled pieces of paper lined the inside of the locker, and a large French flag was pinned to the corners, covering the locker like wall paper. The door was covered in drawings, _signed, John Laurens,_ and bolts of fabric sat in the shelving part.

For all the mother-henning this guy did, Alex was surprised he didn’t drive a mini-van.

“Laf, do you drive?”

“Oui. A… Uhm… Miniature van?”

_Never mind._ Alex thought, chuckling slightly.

They stopped by Alex’s locker on the way back – thankfully water-boy from earlier was gone – and he grabbed the nice lunch Martha made him before following Lafayette down the stairs. Hercules was waiting for them once they got outside, sitting at one of the round, green tables in the courtyard Alex had seen earlier.

“Where is everyone?” Alex asked as they sat down together at the table, noticing that all of the other tables were empty or had minimal people at them.

“Either inside or in the line for lunch. It’s French-fry day.” Herc hiked his thumb over his shoulder, and Alex turned around to find three incredibly long lines of teens, waiting to get lunch. He was quick to spot John at the front of the middle line, but not before he spotted a large puff of hair a few people behind him.

_Jefferson._

He was surrounded by his friends and seemed to be occupied by what the boy from the pictures earlier – the one with dark skin and a small smile – was saying, even though he kept coughing in the process. Alexander also noticed that the water from earlier seemed to have dried, and he looked a lot more mellow than this morning.

“French-fries are not French! They are from Belgium! How many times must I send that letter to the Principal’s room-” Laf’s rant broke Alex from his silent praying, hoping that Jefferson wouldn’t notice him and come over.

“Office.”

“- _Office_ to get this changed?! It’s outrageous!”

“What’s outrageous?” John’s voice cut through Laf’s speech as a basket of fries was plopped on the table, and John slid into the seat across from Alexander.

Laf didn’t say anything, but snarled at the fries with a glare that could kill an elephant. John snorted and threw one at him, eating the fries with a smirk on his face as Lafayette grumbled.

“The Crew Of Dickbag’s™ was behind me in line. Could hear Lee snickering about the black-eye from almost fifteen people away.” John shook his head, tucking into his burger.

“Who?” This felt like yet another inside joke that Alex didn’t get.

“Oh, the Designated Crew Of Dickbags™. You met some of them earlier, actually. The ginger with the long hair was Charles Lee, and the tall one with the brown hair and weird nose – that’s Samuel Seabury.” Hercules explained, pointing to the two guys from earlier – Alex only recognized them from when Seabury handed King his shoes.

“And that one’s King, yeah?” He asked, pointing to the tall boy in the center, who stood with his head high and his chest puffed out.

“The one and only… George King. A real fuck-nut, if you are to ask me.” Laf sighed, watching the group of boys with disgust.

“Yeah, I’ve never trusted any of them. Lee steals shit, King allegedly raped some girl last year, Jefferson’s a rich asshole, and Burr’s a pussy who can’t stand his own ground but follows that group around like a puppy. Lee is Seabury’s soulmate – more like his Sugar Daddy to be honest – but I’ve never thought it was healthy that Seabury tries to prove himself constantly… That whole group is pretty fucked-up.” John shrugged, pointing to each boy individually to show who they were.

“I trust Burr the least, though. I watched him bite an ice-cream once. Just straight up, bit into it. That bitch is definitely not human.” Hercules shook his head, watching the seven boys chatter amongst themselves in the lunch line.

“And he holds an opinion like people will judge him for it – honestly that boy is all kinds of a pushover.” John added as Laf stabbed at his salad passive-aggressively.

“What about Sneezy McGee over there?” Alex asked, watching the boy Jefferson was talking to blow his nose four times in thirty seconds.

“Oh, that’s Madison, James, Madison, taht is. He’s not the worst but he can be just as bitchy and spoiled as Jefferson. At least he knows how to have a decent conversation – can’t be said for the rest of them.”

“And… Is he like, always sick, or...?”

“Constantly.” John laughed.

“All the time.” Laf added.

“You’ve never seen someone go through Kleenex’s so fast.” Herc shook his head, looking over the boys again before slowly turning back to eat.

“I uhm… Jefferson has the locker next to me – I met him this morning.” Alex said, taking a bite of the PB & J that Martha packed.

“Oh yeah? What’d he say? Try to get you in with his clique?”

“I uh… I spilled water on him.”

Soda spewed from Lafayette’s nose, followed by a plethora of coughs and laughs, John had to stop himself from spitting out his sandwich, and Hercules had tears quickly forming in his eyes.

"You-” John could barely stop laughing to form a sentence. “You spilled water, on _Thomas Motherfucking Jefferson_!”

“Oh, my God, thank you! I fucking hate that guy!” Hercules wiped the tears from his eyes and steadied his breathing.

“You do? What did he do?”

“What _didn’t_ he do! Well, saying that, it’s more like _’who’_. He’s known to have fucked councilors, teachers, female coaches…” Hercules nodded as he spoke, as if recounting the details of the rumor.

“He’s, um…” It was obvious Lafayette was trying to get his point across a bit more elegantly than Herc. “ _Made love_ , to a few females that go to this school. There was Allison Kepis, Isabelle Maples, Martha Manning!”

Alex didn’t notice how John flinched slightly, but the look on his face made Alexander’s eyebrows knit together in confusion.

“Oh please, you two broke up like forever ago.” Herc punched John’s shoulder lightly, as if in encouragement.

“I know but… Still hurts, you know?”

“Martha is John’s… _Âme sœur_.” Laf noticed Alex’s confused expression.

“Soulmate.” Hercules corrected without looking up from his sandwich, as if he was used to Laf’s English mistakes.

“Soulmate, _merci_. They had a falling out not too long ago.” He stage whispered, smirking at John, who went bright-red.

“I wouldn’t say falling out – she was the one who thought we needed a break-”

“You can’t stay away from her forever, John.” Herc smirked from across the table. “It’s been what... two weeks? And you’re still avoiding her?"

“My dad made the same point last week.” John bit back. The table went quiet, and Alex decided not to press.

“Oh, and Sally Hemings!” Hercules added, changing the subject. “That was a huge thing. People say he got her pregnant.” Laf whacked his shoulder but Herc just shrugged. “It was just a rumor.”

“Alex? Come get a soda with me? I’ll buy you some skittles.” John offered, smacking his hands together to clean the crumbs off as he got up.

Alexander paused for a moment, before getting up. It was rare that people wanted Alex to come with them, and rarely did they also offer something in return.

He followed John to the large, blue vending machine, blushing slightly as Laf and Herc smirked and nudged each other, watching their friends go until the pair turned around the corner and were out of sight.

As soon as they reached the machine, John slipped five bucks into the slot, and pushed a few buttons, watching the Fanta and the Skittles tumble down.

As soon as the box of Skittles fell into the bottom, however, Alexander felt a hand on his shoulder. He was pulled around before he could do anything, though, and was quickly pushed against the vending machine, with a loud yell from John. Another slam indicated John was getting the same treatment.

He was quickly met with the cold, harsh, brown gaze of Samuel Seabury.

Alex may have been too stunned and scared to move, but that didn’t stop John. “Get the fuck off me, you son of a-” A harsh blow to his stomach silenced him, and Alex could just make out the voice of Charles Lee.

“Shut up or we’ll do what we did this morning one more time.” Another punch made John gag and choke on whatever limited air he had. It had only been about an hour since John’s skirmish, and that had probably given the bruises time to start causing him pain. Alexander’s heart sank as he thought of the pain John was in.

“Don’t touch him! Leave him alone!” He screeched, thrashing against Seabury's grip. Throwing a shoe at someone will really boost your confidence when faced with that person again; meaning that Alex had no problem looking King directly in the eye as he approached with Jefferson and Madison on his tail.

“Oh-ho? And who might you be?” Madison cooed, stepping forward.

“Down, Jemmy…” Lee smirked, eyeing Alexander with disgust. “What’s your name again, kid?”

“Alexander Hamilton. His name is Alexander Hamilton.” A cocky voice behind him answered, and out stepped Jefferson.

Lee snorted. “How much do your parents have to hate you to give you that name?! Your middle name wouldn’t happen to be ‘Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious’, would it?” The whole group snickered at the stupid joke.

“This the guy?” Lee nodded towards Alex, his hands still placed on John’s shoulders, keeping him down.

“Yep, this is him.” Jefferson nodded, looking Alex over like a mangy alley cat.

“The fuck do you want, Jefferson?” John snarled back, fighting against Lee’s grip. A hand was slapped over his mouth, and muffled screams echoed through Alex’s head.

“Just wanted to say thanks for spilling that water on me earlier. Can’t a man say a few nice words to the pipsqueak who fucked-up my morning?” The snarl in his voice and the glint in his eye made Alex’s breathing hitch.

“I- I didn’t mean to, please, I’m sorry.” Alexander writhed against Seabury’s grip.

“You’re almost tall enough to be taken seriously. _Almost_.” Jefferson sneered, stepping dangerously close to Alex.

“Lafayette! Mulligan! Laf, for the love of God, please!” John screamed, and the sound of footsteps were heard.

“I told you to shut him up!” King all but smacked Lee across the face.

“I tried; he bit me!” Lee snapped back, one hand gripping John's neck as the other was rubbed against his shirt, a red bite-mark lining his tan flesh, a

“Laf! Herc!” John thrashed under Lee’s grip, but before Lee could deliver him another punch, Laf and Herc came skidding around the corner, stopping dead as their eyes landed on the brawl.

“Thomas?” Laf’s eyes landed on Jefferson, and he immediately became confused.

“Gilbert… These guys with you?” Jefferson grunted back.

“You know they are.” Hercules growled back, taking a step closer. Jefferson slapped Charles’ chest lightly with the back of his hand, still staring at Lafayette with slight malice, and Alex was out of Seabury’s grip. As soon as he felt his shirt loosen, he bolted over to Lafayette, all but hiding behind his angry stance.

“Alright, alright, don’t get your hand-sewn pants in a fucking twist, Mulligan. Lee?” Jefferson rolled his eyes, and Lee let John go. He scrambled just as fast, if not faster than Alex to Laf and Herc, stumbling into Herc’s arms.

“You’ve got your pets back.” Lee snarled. “Go on. Back to lunch.” He waved his hands in dismissal, watching the group over Jefferson’s shoulder.

“Jeffershit, call off your guard dog.” Herc snarled, ushering Laf, John, and Alex back.

Jefferson snarled, taking a step closer, only to be shot a look from Laf, stopping him. He snarled once more, turned on his heel, cupped his hair to make sure it was still ‘perfect’, and led the group of boys towards the parking lot.

“They’re probably off to go drink... Charles’ Uncle owns a pub not far from here – they won’t be coming back today.” John mused, letting Laf help him stand up straight again, groaning in pain due to the bruises on his stomach.

“Probably won’t be back tomorrow either, depending on the hangover…” Hercules sighed.

“What an asshole.” Alex shook his head, watching Jefferson hop into a red, incredibly-clean Corvette with his friends in tow.

“Do not give him such a hard time, _Alexandre_. He’s not always like that. He’s in my French class – he is not as big of a, uhm... 'Douche' as you may think.” Laf nodded sincerely as John cracked his knuckles, breathing heavily as he shook his limbs out.

“Wait… Laf, you and I have French together.”

“Oh… Oui! You are right, we do! You must see him then, he is not this mean, I promise.”

_Oh good Lord, this was going to be a long fucking year._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Three cheers for Yorktown High's favorite fighting Frenchmen. And the tailor. And the heartthrob. And the orphan. These poor kids I can't.


	5. The Schuyler Sisters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Schuyler sisters delight and distract Alexander.

It only took three days for Alexander to fully accept the fact that he was officially part of the ‘Revolutionary Crew’ – self-named, of course, due to Lafayette’s promise that one day, all of them were going to change the world, and what turned the world upside-down more than a revolution? 

They waited outside his classes for him, they ate lunch with him – even on the second day, when he sat away from them to make sure he wasn’t intruding, which ended in Laf throwing him over his shoulder and carrying him across the courtyard to sit with them – and they even coaxed the teacher of any classes they had together to let Alex sit with them; resulting in Laf sitting next to him in his French III and debate class, Hercules behind him in Theatre, and John at his table in Science – although, in the three days Alex had been at school, he noticed that John seemed to be in the Principals office for talking back to the teacher more than he was in class. 

They were a force to be reckoned with when together, however, and most of the time – excluding the times when one of the four was moved to the front for talking – they sat together as a foursome in Math, English, and lunch. 

_And then there was Jefferson._

Alex had somehow managed to land a spot in his French class, his lunch period, his debate class – along with Madison, Lee, Seabury, and Burr – his English class, and his History. He had also taken a particular liking to throwing balled-up Post-it notes at the back of Alexander’s head, only to hit him between the eyes when he turned around.

“He is not as mean as you think, Alex. You must give him time, non?” Laf’s suggestion was followed by Alexander’s sigh as they waited for the morning bell to ring. One of the French teen’s long, spidery legs, clad in light-blue jeans, dangled from where he sat on top of the table in the space between the edge of the seat and the edge of the table; the other resting on the seat and bouncing to the beat of some far-away rap music.

“I’ve given him three days – hell, he still treats Herc and John like shit and you guys have known him for what? Four years?” Alex grumbled, sitting sideways on the seat to face Laf.

“Six.” John muttered, not looking up from his Gameboy, where Pokémon Red was displayed dimly on the screen. “I’ve known him since he got kicked out of that God-awful private school – my dad’s pretty rich, his dad's pretty rich; two and two make four, ‘Lexi.”

“What’d he get kicked out for?”

“Bit some kid, I heard.” John shrugged, and Alexander could feel his cheeks warm up as the morning sun hit the freckled boy’s face perfectly, illuminating his cheekbones and pronouncing his freckles.

A shrill bell sounded overhead, and Laf practically jumped off the table, waking up Hercules, who rested with his head in his arms on the other side of John, and making John shove his Gameboy in his bag.

Alexander could practically feel his heartbeat rise when John grabbed his hand and pulled him to the very front of the crowd of kids, hooking an arm around Lafayette’s waist to make sure they all stayed together.

John’s locker was last, and by that time, Hercules and Laf were bored with waiting on their friends. If Alexander craned his neck, he could see the top of Laf’s bun from where the French teen and his boyfriend sat on the floor nearby, but too many people passed between Alex and the pair for him to catch their attention.

John’s locker was nice; a blue locker with cat stickers on the outside and brown, wooden beads hanging from the top when you opened it. It was relatively empty, besides the odd picture of the Revolutionary Crew at the beach or something, and the rolled-up, vibrantly-colored posters that were shoved into the corner. The thing that caught Alex’s eye, though, was the floor – littered with sketch books; obviously used ones, with graphite markings running down their sides.

“You draw?” Alex asked quietly, eyeing them with confusion. All those times that Herc had mentioned that he sewed and made clothes – why had John not added that he draws? All that talk of hobbies and John hadn’t said a word. Of course, Alexander didn’t say much either, but that was mainly because his free time was spent writing essays to force off awful thoughts, and tearing himself to pieces with his razor; and he doubted that either of those would make for good conversation.

“Oh uhm… It- It’s nothing-” 

“Can I see?”

“Well, I- I would let you- but see- I- um-” There was no denying that John Laurens was hot when he was flustered. Some would say he’s hot all the time, but Alex felt like this was different. Usually, John was just John – cute, adorable, everything-is-perfect-and-you’re-my-world John. His curly mess of hair pulled back, his freckles illuminating his cheeks, his perfect eyes and _the way they just-_ Alexander could go on forever.

But John with red cheeks and sheepish smiles and the way he tripped over his words… Alex could feel himself melt.

“Please?”

“I- Uhm… Fine… But don’t judge it too harshly.” John sighed, chuckling slightly as he handed the shorter teen a well-used sketchbook.

Alexander could feel his affection for John rise as he opened the book. Sketches of birds littered the pages, with trees and turtles and ponds mixed in as well. The detail was incredible – some of them even brushed over with what looked to be watercolor. His eyes were glued to the pages as they flipped by, taking in every mark, detail, and edge.

“Holy shit, Laurens.” He breathed after a moment, looking up to find John still staring at his work with red cheeks.

“I- I know, that one is a bit messy and the eye’s a little off – shit, I think that one’s head is too big-”

“Can I keep this?” Alex interrupted.

“C- Can you… Uhm, y- yeah sure; i- if you promise not to show anyone, that is.”

“No, no I would never. I just… Like it, that’s all.” 

John raised his eyebrows at Alexander’s comment, but simply shrugged. “It’s yours now, my dude.” Alexander’s heart fluttered slightly at the acknowledgment of their friendship.

The locker was shut with a _‘Bang’_ , and the two nodded at each other, smiling as they walked side-by-side to collect Laf and Herc. It wasn’t long before the four boys made their way across the school, attempting to dodge people, running into people, apologizing profusely to people, and racing down staircases to avoid somewhat-angry people who just got ran into.

“Hold up,” Herc wheezed as they passed the library, laughing airily as he bent over with his hands on his knees to catch his breath. Alex didn’t blame him, John’s locker was as far from the Math hall as you could get, and they only had about ten minutes left until they were late. That was enough time, of course, but Lafayette’s constant nagging that another tardy would land him a detention was enough to get them off their asses.

“Wait, Laf! There’s Peggy!” John blurted suddenly, smacking Laf’s chest to get his attention and standing on his toes to see over the crowd.

“Where am I looking- Oh, I see her! Angie! Pegs!” Laf called to someone presumably far away, looking over at a particular spot in the swarm of people. 

Alex didn’t see anyone look up or acknowledge the call, possibly because he was too short to even see over the person in front of him, but Laf waved his hand above his head and stood on tiptoe – most likely to see someone who was far away, meaning Alex had even less of a chance at seeing the mystery people. Laf smiled back at whoever he was waving too, and began pushing his way through the crowd with the other three boys at his heels.

Alex had to jog to keep up as he pushed his way through the crowd thanks to Lafayette’s spider-legs and sudden bout of energy that John shared and Alex lacked. 

“You’re going to _love_ the Schuylers.” Herc promised as they weaved their way through the crowd. It took a few shoves – most of which were delivered by either John or Laf – but eventually, they both stopped their long strides.

Hercules practically shoved Alex to the front of their group, despite his protests, and was met with two girls, one of whom looked severely unimpressed, and the other, who looked as though her bloodstream was nothing but crushed-up Lucky Charms and glitter. 

“Jeez, Laf, I could hear you from-” But the older girl stopped talking as soon as her dark eyes rested on Alex. He quickly came to the conclusion that she could easily pass as the hard-ass, scary CEO of some law firm and it would take years for anyone to notice. 

The shorter one’s eyes immediately brightened, and she straightened up from leaning on the lockers to look at Alexander with wonder dancing in her eyes. 

The taller one scared Alexander, but not in the way that George or any of his previous foster homes had. No, this girl had sharp, dark eyes that reminded him of a hawk, and the way she held herself gave off the impression that she could simply glance at you and you’d drop dead on the floor. A white puff-sleeved blouse hid her arms down to her elbows, and was tucked into cranberry-colored jeans that were paired with dark ankle boots. She had a darker skin color than that of her younger counterpart, and Alex had to fight the urge to not meet her gaze for fear of turning to stone. 

The younger of the two girls struck up his interest more, though. She had light, cocoa skin – almost comparable to Laf’s – and a ponytail of very poofy, very curly hair. She looked slightly younger than Alex – probably a freshmen – and seemed to have a constant smile on her face. Her eyes sparkled and white teeth were showcased in a bright smile. Her sundress also caught his attention – a certain shade of canary-yellow that complimented her features.

“Schuyler’s, I’d like you to meet Alexander.” Laf smiled, stepping back to introduce Alex. A sheepish smile spread across his face at the sudden attention, but the tension disappeared as soon as he was engulfed in a hug by the shorter girl. He immediately tensed, but didn't want to be rude to this girl - who obviously didn't want to hurt him - so he held his breath and gave an awkward smile as he tried to just power through it.

“Oh my gosh! I’ve heard so much about you! Laf hasn’t shut up about you, actually, so I didn’t really have a choice on that one – but I’m so happy to finally meet you!”

“Uhm… Hi?” He offered as she broke the hug, stepping back and bouncing on her toes.

“I’m Peggy. Peggy Schuyler.” She stuck out a hand, and he shook it with what little confidence he had.

When he turned to the other girl expecting a name, he made the mistake of meeting her eyes, which made her clench her jaw and straighten up from where she’d been leaning on her locker like her sister. She took an intimidating step towards him, making him step back, and her eyes gave him a once-over. Her gaze wasn’t harsh or cold, though, it was simply firm – like a father assessing his daughter’s boyfriend for the first time.

“What’d French-fries say your name was, kid?” 

“ _French fries are not French_ -” 

“Alexander. Alexander Hamilton.” Alexander swallowed thickly, waiting for her to come to a conclusion about what she thought of him. 

There was a pause. 

And then she scoffed and leaned back against the lockers, crossing her arms. 

“Bit of a mouthful if you ask me.” 

“Oh, and Mary-Joseph Eve Penguin Dynamite Bullwinkle Markus de Lafayette isn’t?” Hercules smirked from behind her, pulling Laf closer as he grumbled. 

“Alright, you got me, Mulligan.” She shrugged, chuckling and letting herself relax slightly. “Angelica Schuyler. Speech-writer for Student Council and representative of the Human Resources Club, 1st chair Oboe, and future First Female President of the United States of America.” She had a firm handshake that made Alexander tense.

He was quick to decide that Angelica Schuyler was not to be fucked with.

“Angelica’s math class is right next to ours. We can go together, non?” Laf questioned the group, and nobody objected. It was much easier to maneuver through the halls with Angelica and Laf at the front. Laf’s height and Angelica’s Medusa-like gaze made it almost deadly to get in the way of them.

“Hey, um, Herc?” Peggy’s voice asked quietly from behind Alexander. “Do you have any…” She trailed off, a nervous look plastered to her face.

“Oh, sure, Pegs.” He handed her a small, brightly-wrapped object from his bag, which she then sighed in relief at and shoved in her purse.

Alexander found it funny that that was exactly would describe the two. Peggy already seemed like the kind of person would forget her period, and Hercules totally seemed like someone who would carry tampons for his female friends.

Eventually though, Peggy had to say ‘goodbye’ and head down to the Band room. Alexander fell in step with Hercules and John, glancing at Angelica quickly. She was too interested in her conversation with Lafayette, though, and he doubted she would hear him.

“So, is Peggy…”

“Adopted? Yeah, they’re Angie’s biological parents but they started fostering Peggy when she was about nine. Only took a few months for them to sign the adoption papers though.” John nodded back.

“But you’ll have to meet Eliza.” Hercules mused, and Alex remembered Laf mentioning Eliza when he showed him the stage. “She’s the most kick-ass stage manager you’re ever going to find, I promise.”

Angelica waved a quick goodbye as she disappeared into her class, and Alex followed Laf, Herc, and John into theirs. Math class passed by quickly, and second period with Jefferson was a lot easier now that Mr. Hale had moved him to the front for not _shutting the fuck up_. 

“-And so Mrs. Adams says, ‘If you wanted me to help time the kids for the mile, you should’ve asked!’, and Mr. Adams was all ‘That’s very sweet of you, Abigail, but I think the coaches and I can handle it’, and she just fucking turned to him, murder in her eyes and went, _‘Remember the ladies, John’._ ” Hercules wheezed to John as Laf and Alex approached their designated lunch table.

It was sunny outside yet again, and John seemed to be letting the warm rays glaze over his face as Alex sat down. His freckles were proudly pronounced, his hair was shining in the yellow light, and his eyelids fluttered closed as he took in the sunshine.

_Fuck, he’s cute stop being so cute how can anyone be that cute…_

The two of them smiled at each other, and Alexander attempted to disguise his blush by eating; shoving a mouthful of K-Mart packaged salad into his mouth.

One of the first things Laf had noticed about Alexander was how he ate, and it didn’t take long for John and Herc to pick up on it either. He hovered over it, pulling it close to his body with an arm on either side, as if he was encircling it. He even managed to wolf it down within three minutes – no matter what it was – and it was honestly pretty scary. Laf had tried to mention it at one point and learned that that was a bad idea. 

Alexander had flinched, and pulled the food closer to him, but the look in his eye told Laf that he would lose a hand if he tried to take his spork.

It was like someone was going to take it away. It was like someone _had_ taken it away. 

Laf didn’t think Alexander would appreciate him asking, even though he wanted to, so he just let Alex be, and hoped he was okay.

“Lizzie!” John’s voice made Alexander jump. His hazel eyes were fixed behind him, but before he could turn around, a girl was standing in the space between his seat and Herc’s.

Laf and Herc’s eyes lit up, and Alex was quick to realize that this was the third missing Schuyler sister. 

“Bonjour, Elizabeth.” Laf winked at her, but she seemed too busy digging through her bag to acknowledge any of them.

Pale skin pronounced her features, with raven-black hair, pulled up into a floppy bun at the top of her head. A crop-top with ripped jean shorts and leggings underneath covered her, but Alexander could only think that she must’ve been freezing because it was just started to get colder. 

Alex had felt the late September chill in his pajamas that morning – even though it was a short-sleeved shirt, because that was the only time nobody would see his blank, scarred arms – but it certainly was getting cooler, and soon it would be too cold for anything but sweaters; Alex didn’t mind that though, because it meant less questioning about his hoodies.

Her eyes scanned the table quickly, before going back to digging through her bag, and pulling out a ton of paper, pens, and rolled-up posters.

“Alright, butter-brains; I have five days until we start production, and I need help.” Her hands were placed on the table like a Mafia boss explaining a heist, but her voice had a hint of frazzled-ness behind it, and she looked quite stressed.

“Sure, ‘Liz. What do you need?” Herc questioned, eyeing the supplies and taking another mouthful of shitty cafeteria lasagna.

“Laf,” Laf perked up at Eliza saying his name. “I need you to fix one of the lights up top – some girl threw a shoe at her ex who was on the catwalk and hit the fixture – and the boy who was supposed to draw the poster bailed – or died, we aren’t sure, we just haven’t heard from him in months – so John I know this is pretty spontaneous but is there any chance you could draw it? Oh! And Herc, listen, I’m so sorry, I know that I should’ve asked earlier, but is there any _possible_ way to make a dress for the lead in the play? Because the dude who was supposed to do it made their costumes look awful and Peggy’s costume looks like a friggin’ potato sack with sequins because he lied about being able to do it and-” She took a deep breath, and her voice shook like she was on the verge of tears. Herc tutted and pulled her down next to him in a hug.

“I can draw this.” John promised, looking over the half-drawn poster and nodding, studying every inch of the poster.

“Oui, and I can fix that light tomorrow after fourth period.” Lafayette nodded, taking a bit of his sandwich.

“And I have a few dresses made already in my room if you want to look at them. A few alterations might be needed but that won’t be too hard.” He shrugged. Eliza took a shaky breath.

“But we’re still waiting for that half of the script to get written – the guy who was supposed to write it quit last-minute claiming that he was coaxed into doing it and that theatre is ‘Gay’-”

“Hell yeah it is.” John chuckled, high fiving Laf.

“-So I’m already trying to get Maria and her make-up department new lipsticks but one of our actors is allergic to ours and the props guy _lost_ a lamp – how do you even _lose_ a lamp? – and now we’re short a script and-”

“Lizzie, Lizzie, please. If you need a script, let Alex write it.” John stabbed at his spaghetti, and pointed at Alexander with the noodle-covered fork, looking away from the poster to look at them for a moment.

“What?” Eliza asked.

“What?!” Alexander’s voice cracked.

“We have seen you clicking away on your phone and writing and scribbling, Mon Ami… You would be good at it.” Laf smirked.

“Laf, you haven’t even seen what I-”

“You know what, it doesn’t matter. Alex, if you can write it, write it. Please. Here’s a copy of what we have.” 

He was quickly handed a script as a girl came running up behind Eliza, grabbing her hand and pulling her away, laughing. She had short, curly brown hair and beautiful red lipstick on with long lashes and latté-colored skin. She was a quite a bit shorter than Eliza, with a baggy red shirt hanging off her features, and leather pants that Alexander couldn’t look away from.

“Come on, ‘Liza! We gotta go, darlin’!” The shorter girl squeaked, smiling broadly as she pulled Eliza towards the large doors of the schools, practically tripping up the concrete stairs.

“Thank you guys so much you have no idea how much this means!” The doors to the school shut, and the four boys were left alone again.

“And that’s Eliza.” John nodded, turning to his friends, re-rolling the poster, and chatting with Laf about his food, quickly enthralling the two in a conversation.

“You should talk to her if you ever need advice on adoption, you know.” Hercules said quietly, making sure that John and Laf didn’t look up from their conversation. “Kid grew up in the orphanage, actually. Biological parents died of some disease when she was little. But Angie’s family fostered her for almost three years before signing the adoption papers-”

“I’m not getting adopted by the Washington’s, if that’s what you’re implying. They can foster me as long as they want, but I’m not a fucking charity case-” He bristled.

“Alright, alright, easy.” Herc chuckled, and Alex relaxed slightly. “I’m sorry for bringing it up so often – I just figure it’ll be easier to have someone to talk to when you want to talk about it, okay?” 

There was a pause.

“Why did it take them so long though?” Alexander avoided his question. “I mean, John said Peggy’s only took a few months.” 

“Alex, Peggy could fall in love tomorrow and the wedding would be next week. She knows what she wants when she finds it, but has a little trouble… Not rushing into it. Well, I mean, Eliza knows what she wants too, she just… I don’t think she was completely sure that the family wanted her in return. That’s what you two could talk about. Avoid adoption all you want, but I don’t doubt that you two will get along just fine.” 

“I think I prefer Angelica…” He mumbled, not meaning it. It earned a chuckle and a hard clap on the back from Herc.

“I think she prefers you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You wanted Schuyler sisters? Too bad you have ‘em. You wanted gay? Too bad you have it. You wanted gay with Jefferson? Dude slow down we’re getting there give me time :) Thank you!


	6. The People Won't Know What We Know...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex has a secret, and, appearetly, a black-mail system between friends to ensure it's safety.

Alex couldn’t believe how much he was letting go of. The view of Nevis from his plane window was still fresh in his mind, and yet he was letting himself relax. The date that Alice had wanted him to call her by – should he want to leave the Washington’s – had been circled in red on his calendar since he had arrived and was creeping closer by the hour, but he found himself never second-guessing his answer. He was finally letting himself breathe, and Jesus did it feel good.

Lafayette had been quick to realize that his house wasn’t far from Alex’s, meaning that Alex’s nights were now filled with opening his bedroom window to find Laf and Mulligan sitting lazily on his fire escape, usually with one leg hanging over the edge as they leaned back on their elbows to look up at the night sky. 

More often than not, though, Herc was too enthralled with his sewing to notice when Alexander crept out to sit with them, and Lafayette was too stoned to even count to twenty. Sometimes Laf even brought his weed with him – and the really good shit, at that. Laf claimed Burr to be his drug dealer, but Alex couldn’t even see that guy gaining enough courage to answer a math question, let alone sell illegal drugs on school grounds.

Laf had tried to convince Alexander to try it for almost a week, but Alexander declined, not enjoying the thought of getting distracted from his work.

Some nights, when he could, John joined them, making Alexanders heart flip every time he opened the window to find his freckled crush sitting crisscross under it.

This new home was beginning to grow on him. Maybe Alice was right – maybe these people really did deserve to know Alex as a person. Alex even tried to believe that they _wanted_ to know him, that they wanted him in general. That they loved him. 

He started to feel more comfortable with his surroundings. When he slept, if at all, it was in the nice bed in his room. He was finally gaining some weight, too, after the doctor described him as ‘Seriously malnourished’ and had scared the living daylights out of Martha and George. He couldn’t even bring himself to worry about food or money anymore – not that he took the Washington’s for granted, of course; he was just overjoyed that he didn’t have to constantly search every crack and crevice of the house to find enough money to buy a donut, which was usually his only meal in a day.

The cuts on his arms were even allowing themselves to fade. No – _he_ was allowing them to fade. To heal.

He was happy, most nights.

Tonight was not one of them, though. He didn’t know what had changed, but tonight, everything felt like too much.

His head pounded, tears threatened to fall down his face, and his hand shook against the paper as he tried to scribble down whatever dialogue he could. The characters in Eliza’s play had lost their motives and began all sounding unnatural about three pages back, but every tiny change Alexander tried to make was met with a red ‘X’, his brain critiquing every tiny thing he did, lying and telling him that Eliza was going to fucking hate whatever he wrote and that he was stupid to think he could do this.

And it didn’t help that every thirty seconds, his nails scratched at his wrists. 

He always hated writing on his skin. It reminded him of how fucking stupid everything was. ‘ _Online HW due 12:00 AM Monday night_ ’. It was just a simple reminder, but the skin underneath the black pen was now raw and red from how many times Alex had run his fingernails over it, almost absent-mindedly, like he was trying to rub it away. 

This wasn’t the first time this had happened; almost every time he wrote on his skin he scratched at it until he either realized and fell head-first into a panic attack, or drew blood. Sometimes he didn’t even notice when he drew blood, he was so fixated on making the marks go away.

His body hungry for more harm, though, almost like every scratch was water in an empty stomach. Each time he raked his nails over his skin, his brain covered up ugly truths with beautiful lies, telling him that the razor in his side-drawer was all he needed to be happy; all he needed to be numb.

His fingers twitched as he wrote, and every time he put the pen down, he scratched madly at his scarred arms. He looked like shit and he knew it. His hair was a mess, the bags under his eyes had grown over the last three days of not sleeping, and every breath he took was shallow and shuddery.

He was on the verge of a panic attack, and he felt like he’d been thrown into a freezing pool of fire. It didn’t take long for these kind of signs to evolve into shaking and pacing and crying and thoughts that pushed him to do something awful. 

“Alexander?”

He hadn’t even heard Herc rap his knuckles against the window, and the voice was so sudden, he fell out of his chair, scrambling backwards in blind fear and spiking adrenaline, until his back his the wall, his panting increasing as his heart jumped from his chest.

“Mon Ami, let us in, it is fucking freezing out here.” A muffled voice called from behind his closed curtains.

He was quiet for a few seconds, evening out his breathing and trying to make himself presentable – or at least to where they wouldn’t ask questions about how he looked. He hissed at the sudden contact of his sleeve against the raw skin of his arm, but shook his head and sighed, shuffling over to the window.

“I should leave you out there, you know.” He joked, trying to make it sound like he hadn’t been crying. “I’m still waiting for those five dollars you owe me after buying that sandwich…” He half-heartedly chuckled, messing up his bedsheets to make them look slept-in and shoving his razors into the drawer, hiding them under the orange bottles of anxiety medication.

“Open the window before I break it open.” The voice of Angelica Schuyler – a new addition to the ‘Let’s surprise Hamilton at his literal fucking house’ squad – growled.

“Holy fuck it’s cold out here.” Peggy’s shivering voice said.

“Maragrita! Language!” The third Schuyler sister, Eliza, tutted back, and the sound of a mitten-covered hand hitting a puffy suit echoed from just outside the window.

Alexander chuckled, trying to throw them off his anxiety-ridden scent as he shoved half-eaten apples into the trash before sauntering over to the window and pulling back the curtains to find five figures, all shivering and holding cups of what Alex assumed were Pumpkin Spice Latte’s. Laf’s other hand held a baggie of something, and Alexander shook his head.

“Laf, you’re not bringing your hipster shit or your drugs in my house.” He tutted, ignoring the strange feeling he got when calling it ‘My house’.

“I will pour my drink down your shirt if you don’t let me in; unlock the goddamn window.” Angelica growled again, staring at Alexander through the glass.

Alexander snorted, letting the happiness of spending time with his friends engulf him and the thoughts from earlier sink away. “If I get in trouble for the weed you’re taking the blame, alright?” He sighed, opening up the window and allowing a cool gust of mid-October air to fill the room.

Immediately, everyone stumbled into his room, practically peeling off their coats and jackets to accommodate for Alex’s warm home and muttering to themselves about how cold it was outside. Pink cheeks matched red noses, and Alexander got the gist of their complaining by sticking his head out the window and letting the icy air bite at his chin.

“Thank you. We brought coffee.” Laf handed him a white cup as soon as he ducked back inside, and Alexander took a sip as he thanked them, letting it warm him up inside and get his blood pumping.

“You bring Laurens?” He questioned, shutting the window as Peggy smoothed the bedsheets down for them to all sit on. Herc carried large, black, clothing bags with him, and set them over the end of the bed before sitting down next to Peggy. 

“He called earlier but-” Angelica was cut off with a harsh glare from Lafayette, and slowly sat on the bed next to her youngest sister. “He couldn’t make it.”

Alexander paused, looking questioningly between them, but brushed it off and took another sip of coffee. “Alright, that’s fine.”

“So, you’ve been working on the script?” Eliza asked, careful not to touch anything as she craned over his lamp-lit desk, studying the dense, hand-written script.

“Umm… It’s not done, but y- you can look at it if you want.” He shrugged, rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

Her eyes immediately lit up, grabbing the script and flipping to the first page as she crossed the room to sit on the bed. Alex and Herc hovered over her shoulders to read and Angie and Peggy nuzzled their heads under her arms while she held it.

It took twenty painstakingly-long minutes for all of them to speed-read it, and the second Herc smiled and nodded ‘Done’, Alex was engulfed in a hug, which he fought to not flinch away from. 

“Holy shit, dude!” Peggy was the loudest of all the collective praise. “I’m going to cry, that was incredible.”

“Peggy, there’s barely any plot. It’s literally he outline of a play with dialogue jammed in like support beams…” He tutted, pushing his way out of the hug. Nobody’s smile faltered, though, and he was glad. If there was one thing he hated, it was questions about his ticks. _‘Why don’t you like being touched?’, ‘Why do you flinch so hard?’,_ and his personal favorite, _‘Dude, did you think I was going to hit you?’._

“Where did you learn to write like that?” Angelica asked, staring at the document.

“Oh you know…” He trailed off not knowing what to say. _‘Oh, you know; those summers where it’s so hot and the power goes out so all you can do is fill a bathtub with ice and force yourself to write so your mind is distracted from the fact that you’re getting hypothermia but it’s better than heat stroke’_. “Practice I guess…”

“This is going to be amazing, thank you so much for writing this, Alex!” Eliza flung her arms around his neck, and he had to fight the urge to push her off. God he _hated_ being touched, but that was all these people wanted to do…

“But we do need your help with one other thing, Alexander…” Herc smirked suddenly, standing up and taking one of the bags off the edge of the bed as the others sat back down, looking over the script again to take in their favorite lines.

“Depends what for…” Alex eyed the bag warily, taking a defensive step back and taking every step Hercules took into account as to how close he was to Alex and what could possibly be in the bag.

“So, you know how Elizabeth asked Herc to do the costumes, yes?” Laf smiled, and Alex was quick to note the smug looks on everyone’s faces, obviously in on something Alexander was not.

“…Yes?”

“Well,” Hercules smiled, getting dangerously close to Alex’s personal space. “We noticed that you have the same shape and size as the main actress and… We were wondering if-”

“You want me to try on a dress?” Alexander’s voice jumped an octave.

“Yep! But it’s not that bad, ‘Lexi. Laf does it all the time.” Peggy shrugged, watching Laf roll a joint and balance the tip in his teeth before pulling a clear-orange lighter from the pocket of his camo bomber jacket and lighting it.

“I’m not putting a dress on – I’ve done a lot of strange things in my life, and this is one thing I’m not down to clown with.”

“What is this, 1985? Who says ‘Down to Clown’ anymore?” Laf chuckled from where he laid on the bed, studying a crack in the ceiling with the joint between his fingers.

“Oh, go smoke outside, you weirdo.” Alex tutted, rolling his eyes and throwing the pen he had tucked behind his ear at the Frenchmen, hitting him in the stomach.

Laf sat up with a blank look on his face, clearly unamused, and let out a puff of white smoke before laying back down, earning giggles from the younger Schuyler’s.

“Mon chou, you hurt me – you really do.” He sighed, shaking his head. 

“Come on, Alex, it’s just a few dresses. Please?” Herc whined, taking a small step closer with the black bag.

“Hercules, get that bag away from me.” Alex warned, smiling as he stepped backwards slightly.

Hercules smirked, taking a step closer, before all hell broke loose and the two boys were chasing each other around the room, jumping on the bed and stepping over Laf and the sisters, scaling chairs as well as they could, and causing enough noise to worry the neighbors.

“Jesus, you’re fast!” Hercules wheezed, stopping for a moment as they ran through the hallway.

“That’s what she said.” Alexander called over his shoulder, pelting towards the kitchen. A chorus of ‘Ayyy’s echoed from the bedroom.

Alexander ended up locking himself in the bathroom.

“Alexander, come on! I really need this done! Please?” Herc pleaded against the door.

Alexander paused, sighing before unlocking the door. “If I do this, I want your assurance that it won’t leave this room. I’m taking this to my grave.”

“Deal. This one’s sparkly pink.”

Hercules was right – it was sparkly pink. 

And it made him feel like a fucking princess. 

He sighed in relief at the fact that it had long sleeves as well, and tugged off his sweater, shrugging the dress over his jeans with ease. That one wasn’t bad – like Herc had promised, when he exited the bathroom, there were no phones or cameras on him. Laf watched him with a smirk on his face as he waddled into the room, uncomfortable in the costume, but Hercules didn’t think twice before sliding pins into place and measuring different parts of the dress.

The second one wasn’t bad either – a puffier, blue dress with a corset-like back, meaning that Peggy had to assist in helping Alex tie it up. It was incredibly itchy against Alex’s skin, however, which caused even the slightest movement to be followed by Alex scratching madly at the dress. (“No- Alex, please- You have to- Fucking sit still!” Hercules scolded, whacking his hands away from where they scratched at his chest. “I’m in a fucking dress Mulligan, what do you want from me?!”)

It was the third dress that made his heart sink.

Short sleeves. 

_Fucking_ short sleeves. 

Short sleeves that barely went past his shoulders. Short sleeves that made his breathing pick up and his heartbeat increase quickly, bringing back all those thoughts from earlier. Short sleeves that he couldn’t even bear to look at, because the thought of showing off his worthlessness made him feel nauseous.

They’d show off his arms. They’d show his scars. They’d show that he was a freak and that he had no one and that everyone in his life was gone and he’d only just found a handful of people that cared about him what if they left _what if they told everyone and what if_ -

“’Lexi? You good, short-stop?” Hercules’ voice called into the bathroom.

Alex shook his head – silently convincing himself he was clearing his thoughts and not that he was telling Hercules that he really wasn’t okay. 

He felt himself begin to tremble, fear overtaking his body as his knees began to feel weak. He couldn’t find the strength to answer as silent tears made their way down his cheeks, his breathing shallow and his head swimming.

_They would all leave you and spread the rumors about you oh god can you imagine what happens when they spread your secrets imagine the looks imagine the stares imagine the questions they’d ask and what they would do to you – you would deserve every hit you get Alexander Hamilton you’re just a fucking freak who was born without a soulmate-_

Knocks threw him from his thoughts, followed by the doorknob twisting violently and swears and shouts coming from his five friends outside.

“Alex?! Alexander, open the door!” Eliza called, her voice frantic. How long had Alex been engulfed in his thoughts? A year? Thirty seconds?

“Alex, please, are you okay?!” Angelica’s voice sent a wash of calmness over Alexander, because the way she said it was the same way she spoke to Eliza or Peggy. Like she was asking as his sister, not the scary, intimidating friend of Laf and Herc’s that he usually saw her as.

He sniffed, wiping his eyes on his sleeve, and quickly fumbled with the lock with shaking hands as he shook his head. Relived sighs echoed from all five of them as the door swung open, but Alexander didn’t dare to look up at them, his gaze fixed on his slippers as he shifted uncomfortably, hugging himself tightly.

“Mon Ange, we thought the worse had happened, we-”

“Y- Yeah, s- sorry, I just… Got caught u- up in my thoughts…” 

“And the dress…?” Herc asked softly, looking behind him at the blue dress, which now in a heap lay on the floor.

“Oh, s- sorry, I- uhm…” He shook his head as if to dismiss the question as he stuttered over his words, trying to calm himself down. He attempted to leave – to get to his bedroom, where he felt safe – only to be blocked as Hercules and Angelica moved in front of him. 

Alex’s brown eyes dared to glance up, finding no comfort in the worried looks on their faces, and quickly darted his gaze back to the floor, stepping back slightly and wringing his hands together, plucking at the hair-tie around his wrist to distract his mind from wanting to cut.

“’Lexi, are you… Crying?” Peggy’s tone sounded almost pitiful and Alexander immediately bristled.

“N- No, o- of course not, I- I just-”

“Alex, what is wrong?” Laf’s tone cut through his rambling, and a hand was placed on his shoulder. Alexander jumped at the contact and stepped back, his hands freezing in a defensive stance in front of his face as he tried to explain, the words not coming out how he wanted them too.

“Nothing- It’s fucking- it’s nothing, I- I’m f- fine, I’m ok- okay, I just- just need- I n- need to-” He needed to get to his room. He just wanted to be alone. He wanted the pounding to stop, he wanted his head to clear, he wanted to not feel like he was about to blow up, he wanted…

_Fuck, he wanted his mother._

Angelica and Herc exchanged a glance and took a step back to allow Alex to go to his room. He didn’t move for a few seconds, but after a glance up at them, he shuffled into his room and sat on the edge of the bed, wringing his hands once again and staring at the floor.

“Alex… What happened?” Hercules followed Alex into the room hesitantly, with the rest of the group trailing behind. His eyebrows were knit together in worry, and he couldn’t hide the pity in his face.

“No.” Alex shook his head simply, letting the answer hang in the air for a few moments.

“Alexander, if you just-”

Alexander practically leapt off the bed, his eyes blazing in anger but his voice thick with sobs, taking a step towards the group as he spoke, his anger mounting.

“What part of ‘no’ do you not understand? Fuck, it’s like you guys are paid to worry about me or some shit, Jesus, give me a fucking break. All you do is worry about me and I’ve told you time and fucking time again that I can’t- that I don’t want to tell you because I’m fine and you fucking ask and ask and ask and I’m fucking expected to answer every time! With the same thing! Do you know what that does to me?! You expect me to lower all of my fucking walls for you and tell you something that I can barely fucking deal with myself?! Who the fuck do you think you are?!”

“Your friends.” Hercules’ voice was level.

Alexander’s demeanor shifted immediatly, and his face fell. The tear-stains on his cheeks were evident now, and the anger wasn’t in his eyes. He had expected a slap, and shout, a derogatory term to be thrown about. But no… There wasn’t even hurt in Hercules’ eyes. Just compassion.

“I… Y- You… What?” This wasn’t the response he’d anticipated. Where was the shouting back? The slap? The lecture about talking back to those in charge?

“We’re your friends. You’re our friend. We just want to help. This isn’t about the dress, is it?” Angelica’s tone was knowing, and Alexander’s heart sunk. 

He’d dug himself into a pit. _They knew, and he had to answer._

His eyes searched the ground for a moment, before tears clouded his vision and he pushed between the group, slamming the door to the bathroom before slinking to the floor and crying his heart out.

_They’re going to hate you, Alexander. You know how this goes. How could you even convince yourself that you could keep friends? You knew they’d find out eventually. You knew this would happen, and you did fuck-all to stop it. You deserve everything you get._

It was almost half an hour before Alex came out again. His eyes were bloodshot and puffy, his cheeks were red and shining, and the look in his chocolate eyes was nothing short of utter defeat.

The group had all moved outside, sitting against the edge of the fire escape with their legs through the bars of the railing, Laf’s shoe clinging on for dear life as it dangled in the chilly New York air. It wasn’t quite cold enough for snow yet, but it had been cold this morning, and was now getting colder by the minute as the night began to settle in, painting the sky dark-grey and navy-blue.

The window opened quietly, and all eyes snapped up to meet Alex as he climbed out, wincing as his bare feet hit the freezing metal.

Alex couldn’t even look at them; he felt disgusting. No, he hadn’t had the strength to pick up his razor, but he had taken it out and set it on the floor, staring at it for almost ten minutes before chucking it at the wall of the bath-shower, letting it fall to the bottom of the tub.

He sat on the cold, metal floor, his back against the crème-colored bricks, with everyone sitting opposite him watching, waiting for an answer.

The butt of Laf’s joint sat on the windowsill, and Alex could see Hercules’ dress-bags on the bed through the window. Angelica’s purse and Eliza’s mittens waited on the bed inside.

They’d been waiting for him. They had no intention of going home until they knew what was wrong.

He felt himself tear up. He had such good friends – he didn’t deserve Laf or Herc or John or the Schuyler’s or the Washington’s. He didn’t deserve people who didn’t get fed-up with him, people who loved him, people who cared for him.

“I just don’t want to lose you guys…” He choked out, letting tears fall down his cheeks and onto his hands. Herc leaned over, wrapping him in a hug – Alex couldn’t remember the last time he didn’t flinch away from physical contact – and patting his back, letting Alexander sob into his shoulder.

“We aren’t going anywhere, ‘Lex. I promise.” Eliza piped up from behind Herc, her pale hand resting on Alex’s as she smiled warmly at him, making his heart swell slightly with affection.

“Oui. We only wish to know so that we can help you.” Laf promised, a warm, soft smile spreading onto his face as well. Herc sat back, and Alex felt his heart sink. All eyes were on him. You could hear a pin drop.

Alexander took a deep breath to steady himself, and stared over Peggy’s head to avoid eye-contact with the group, finding comfort in the starry sky. 

“Have you ever had… A secret? Like, one that you can’t tell people.”

“Sure.” Eliza shrugged, nodding along with her sisters.

Alex took another deep breath. “And… Would it change the way people look at you?” There was a slight pause as everyone thought.

“I guess? I always thought I was weird for having a male soulmate.” Hercules suggested, looking at Laf lovingly. 

Alexander’s wince at the word ‘Soulmate’ didn’t go unnoticed, though.

“Is it… Is it your soulmate, Alex?” Peggy questioned, looking at Alex like she was worried he would run off again.

“Did they say something? Something bad?” Angelica questioned, her gaze darting down to Alex’s sleeves.

“U- Uhm, no… No, they didn’t say anything bad.” Alex shook his head, wrapping his arms protectively around his waist. “They don’t say much of anything, really.”

“Are they male? Is that why?” Herc followed up. Alexander felt sick. “Because that shouldn’t matter, alright? You can’t control who your soulmate is! And hey, if you love them, you love them, right? Do _they_ think it’s weird? Because it’s not – really, it’s not, trust me. I mean with Laf and I, it took a while for our families to get used to us having same-sex soulmates, but-”

“N- No, they aren’t male.” Alex butted in. The words rested on his tongue like acid. The last time he’d addressed his soulmate so formally, he was probably still under the impression that he had one.

“Then… What’s the problem?” Herc shook his head, bewildered. _Why couldn’t they have guessed that he didn’t have one as easily as they’d inferred that his non-existent soulmate was male?_

Alex bit his lip. 

He’d never told anyone this. 

He mentally prepared himself to be spit on him – hurt – bullied until they all left him alone once again. A glimmer of hope flickered in his stomach, and, even though it was only for a second, it was enough  
to force the words out of his mouth.

“ _I don’t have one_.” 

As soon as he said it, he wanted to take it back.

He wanted to have made up a better lie, he wanted to have planned how he would keep a straight face as he watched Laf and Herc’s expressions change, he wanted to have had more time to prepare himself for how he felt.

Because now he felt nothing. Empty. Worthless. Disgusting. Pathetic. Useless. 

He thought he’d feel relieved, but as soon as he looked up to see his friends faces, he felt his heart shatter.

“Oh.” Was all Hercules had to say, a blank look on his face as he blinked at Alex slowly.

Alex looked to all the other faces to find them just as taken aback. He couldn’t tell if Angelica looked like she was going to be sick or just utterly confused, but neither were really good. 

“I… I didn’t want you to find out so soon- fuck, it feels like we met yesterday, and I- I just- you- you were never supposed- supposed to find out and I never wanted y- you to find out like this or at all or ever because you don’t deserve a waste of fucking space like me God I’m so fucking stupid for saying that a- and… And… I just-” Alexander sobbed openly, bringing his knees to his chest as five pairs of eyes just stared at him, similar expressions on their faces.

“Alex?” Peggy whispered, worriedly, but it only made Alex sob harder.

“N- No, it’s fine – shit, I can’t fucking believe I thought I deserved y- you, I thought for once in my fucking life I w- was going to fuck- fucking have friends or s- someone who cared ab- about me. The windows right the fuck o- over there, Peg.” He snarled between sobs, his forehead resting on his knees to hide his tears.

“Alexander-” Hercules tried to scoot closer to Alex, but Alex just scrambled back into the cold bricks.

“Just leave me the fuck alone, alright?! Do me a fucking favor and get out!”

“Non, Alexandre, you do not understand-”

“I’ve been through it before- just take your fucking weed and leave, Laf-”

“Non.” Laf held up a hand as if to silence him, and sighed. “I… Marie-Josèphe Paul Yves Roch Gilbert du Motier de La Fayette, Marquis de La Fayette.”

Alex sniffed and looked up in confusion. “What?”

“I just… I never told you my full name – I realized this now. You tell me a secret, I should tell you one, non? It is only correct. La Fayette is my home – my father was a duke. Tech-ni-ca-lly,” He pronounced choppily. “My last name is Motier. I just never liked the sound of it, I suppose. La Fayette was my home in France, this was the way to remember it. I’ve not told anyone but Hercules that.” He nodded, as if encouraging Alex to look up.

There was a pause.

“That shit King said about my mom a while ago? During that fight? She uhm… She was diagnosed with cancer about six months ago.” Hercules stared at his hands, but raised his eyebrows as he spoke. “There. Now you have a secret.”

“James Madison and I did it in the back of his car two months ago.” Angelica sighed, looking at the ground. “It was just a one-time thing, and we were both buzzed, but… That’s a secret. I know it’s not as big as yours, I’m sorry, but I can’t think of anything else right now.”

“I’m happy all the time because my depression medication fabricates it. Everybody thinks I’m fucking Mabel Pines-ing this shit, but really, I’m dead inside.” Peggy nodded, blinking slowly like she was challenging someone to be shocked. Alex knew what she meant.

“I broke into my neighbor’s house and stole her radio two years ago and sold it for fifty bucks to buy Laf weed.” Eliza added, smiling slightly at Lafayette.

The fire escape became silent as everyone took in the heavy and the not-so-heavy secrets that were said.

“You didn’t have to say any- any of that.” Alex whispered after a few heartbeats. “I could tell everyone.”

“Are you going to?” Herc asked quietly.

“N- No, I would- I would never… That’s not to say you won’t. You know what, fuck it. Tell fucking everyone. I don’t even care; I deserve it.” The defeated look in his eyes darkened, and his hand began scratching at his sleeve.

“A- Alex, non, we would not.” Laf smiled, trying to encourage Alex to stop crying.

“’Lexi, you have my full permission to tell everyone what I said if I tell even one person about your thing. I would never do that to you. Swear on the grave of my mom.” Peggy crossed her heart with a finger.

“Peggy, our mom isn’t dead.” Angelica reminded her.

“The grave of my hamster, then, Mr. Pippin.” Peggy crossed her heart again.

“I won’t tell, either, Alex. I trust that you’ll respect me the same way.” Angelica nodded firmly, with that same sisterly vibe from earlier, and Alex nodded back.

“Nor I, ‘Lex.” Eliza smiled at him, patting his hand once again.

“Alex, I promise – we would never tell. I promise.” Herc smiled slightly, thankful the sad part of this conversation was gone. 

Alexander paused. There was a weird feeling spinning inside of him. He… He _believed_ them. He trusted them. 

He knew it was stupid and went against every barrier he had, but before he could even think, the words tumbled out.

“I trust you.”

Herc smiled softly. “Good. I trust you, too, Alex.”

A chorus of ‘Me too’s broke out, and Alex’s heart thawed a little bit.

Alex couldn’t help but crack a smile. It hurt his heart to make, and he knew this was barely a time to be smiling, but he couldn’t help it. 

“So… You… _Aren’t_ going to leave?” He questioned softly.

“Non! Non, of course not, Mon Ange! Why on Earth would we leave?” 

“I’m… I’m a fucking freak, that’s why.”

“Alexander no-one here thinks you’re a freak. I promise you that.” Eliza countered, hooking an arm around Peggy’s neck and pulling her closer into a sisterly embrace.

Alex nodded slightly, letting the feeling of believing them wash over him again.

“Now, can we go back inside? I think it’s gotten colder since we got here, and I’m freezing my tits off.” Herc smiled, and a chorus of giggles spread through the group.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ayyy! Look-y there, Alex did a thing! And they liked him! Hahahaha lets hope it stays like this (JK i'm an all-knowing powerful beast who can personally tell you shit hits the fan) ((But hey I'm the one who wrote it I have literally no idea if it's good or not so)) (((Maybe it turns out better for Alex???))) ((((Lol it doesn't)))) Also this feels kind of fast? Maybe it isn't, I don't know, but I'm sorry if it feels that way! It gets better I swear.


	7. Raise A Glass To Freedom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are only two people in the world who tell the absolute, unbridled truth - good people, and drunk people. And Alexander only considers himself one of those things.

_October 29th, 2017; 3 AM, Eastern Standard Time_

Four boys stumbled together down a chilly New York sidewalk, their arms flung over each other’s shoulders as they screeched the lyrics to ‘All The Single Ladies’, giggling and hiccupping like maniacs and clad in enough layers to keep a glacier warm.

“Laf!” The shortest of the four practically screeched over his chuckles as he shoved a camera in the French teens face. “Smile for the camera, you nerd!” He slurred, giggling. Laf smiled drunkenly, shoving the camera down and stumbling slightly.

“Alex, what- why are you filming us?” John giggled back, making Alexanders face heat up at the way his freckles shone in the dim moonlight.

“’Cause- ‘Cause I wanna keep it on record!” He drawled, smiling like an idiot and snapping a picture of John’s beaming face. “I’ve got-” He was cut off by a hiccup. “Such great friends that are all so photographable! Smile, Herc!”

“Alex- Alexander-” Herc wheezed out between laughs, pushing the camera out of his face just as Laf had done. “I th- I think you're drunk.” 

“I’m not drank… drink… drunk. I’m not drunk.”

It was obvious that Alexander was drunk.

“Ahh, shut it, demigod!” Alex huffed back, pushing the broader teen slightly, only to stumble backwards and almost tumble directly into John, who staggered straight into Lafayette’s arms, which snaked around his waist and pulled him closer. The taller teens head rested against John’s shoulder, and he began muttering something in French, quietly. It had been decided earlier that night that Lafayette was the neediest intoxicated person Alexander had ever met.

“’Lexi’s right, Mulligan. He’s not the only one.” John shook his head and rolled his eyes, chuckling as he pet Laf’s head slightly. John had managed to limit himself to only about two drinks, but he still somehow looked like he would topple face-first into the street without Alex’s support.

It was John’s birthday, and Lafayette had managed to sneak a shit-ton of liquor from his aunt’s house, meaning the four boys had made a party of it in the park near Hercules’ house after dark. But after almost five hours of just sitting around, buzzed out of their minds, they had finally come to the realization that they should probably get going.

“That- That’s my block.” John’s words were almost unintelligible as he pointed down the dark sidewalk, tripping as soon as he broke free from Lafayette’s hold of his waist.

“Johnny-boy, you can’t make it down that street!” Alexander snickered, taking a swaying step forward. “You- You won’t make it ten steps before you eat dirt.” He took another step forward, immediately tipping on a slightly un-even part of the sidewalk, tumbling straight into John’s arms as the freckled boy swooped to catch him.

They paused. John’s eyes trailed down Alex’s body easily in the positon he was in; dipped down low in John’s arms with one hand on his back, pulling their bodies close together. His eyes moved back up to meet Alexander’s eyes, which had never left John’s, and Alexander now noticed the streetlamp overhead, splaying light out over the back of John’s head and making Alexander’s incredibly intoxicated brain to confuse him with an angel. 

A moth flew over their head, and Alexander noticed how domestic it seemed around them. He wasn’t sure what Laf and Herc were doing at this point, but he didn’t care. John was all he cared about.

“May- Maybe you should give me something else to eat.” He smirked, hiccupping.

“Uh- Uhm, l- like what?” Alexander gulped, not able to tear his eyes away from John as a soft hand ran down his cheek.

“Like you.” 

Teeth drunkenly nipped at his earlobe, and alcohol was thick on John’s hot breath as he snickered against Alexander’s neck.

Alexander’s eye went wide, and he quickly felt his ears and cheeks heat up. He all but threw himself out of John’s grip, and blundered over to where Lafayette and Hercules were in the middle of a sloppy kiss, grabbing both their arms and stumbling away.

_He’s just drunk, Alex, he probably doesn’t even know he’s saying it; it literally means nothing – he’ll never reciprocate the feelings you have for him, the sooner you accept that, the sooner you can brush these things off._

“Alex, what are you doing?” Laf tilted his head to the side but didn’t complain as Alexander continued to push him down the road.

“I- We have to go.”

“Bye John!” Hercules called over his shoulder, yawning. “See you Monday, yeah?”

“Au Revoir, Jacky.” Laf mumbled, nuzzling in the crook of Hercules’ neck.

“I’ll- I’ll see you later, John.” He muttered, pushing the two away from the street where John still stood, smirking with his hands in his sweater pockets under the street lamp.

“See ya’ later, ‘Lexi!” He called, and Alex could hear the smirk in his voice as his footsteps echoes away from the remaining trio. He blushed, and pushed his friends faster from the street, somehow managing to not face-plant on the way.

“M- Mon Tante, Gabrielle, she is not at home – we can, how you say… ‘Crash’ there if you wish,” Laf slurred as they turned down another empty street, making their way towards the heart of Manhattan.

After ten minutes of stumbling around, trying to avoid cop cars at all costs and going in several circles, they made it to a canary-yellow townhouse on the Upper West Side, squished between two olive-green ones that looked nowhere as lived in. No, Lafayette’s house had soul, and Alexander liked it.

The house could not have been more French if it hit you in the face with a baguette, while wearing a beret and screaming ‘Vive la Eiffel tower’. 

The brick steps that connected it to the sidewalk were framed with elegant railings, much like the railings of the fire escape at the Washington’s, and flower baskets were latched to every window, framed with open, wooden shutters and over-flowing with different colored flowers. Yellow light poured from the upper left window, and the smell of pastries hit him soon after the large front door was opened.

“Bienvenue chez moi.” Laf shrugged, ushering his friends inside and shutting the door behind them.

Hercules stumbled into what was most likely the living room as Laf went somewhere else in the house, but Alexander took a moment to truly absorb the house. A staircase on the back wall faced Alexander for four steps, and then turned when it met the wall, turned again at the next wall, and continued to the upstairs. Open paint cans of every color imaginable littered the floors, and the hardwood could hardly be seen under all of the multi-colored paint-splotches on the ground. 

Alexander had to be careful where he stepped to make sure that he didn’t tread in any of it, but lime-green footprints on the floor told him that it wasn’t that big a deal. A chandelier hung from the high ceiling in the front room, stretching up both stories, and as soon as Herc flipped the switch, Alexander was bathed in murals. Doves lined the wall into the kitchen, and the open door to the bathroom showed that seashells and turtles had made their homes on the breezy-blue walls.

There was no door to the living room, which gave Alexander a clear view of the storm cloud-grey walls, accepted with elegant, red cardinals, and Alexander followed Herc in after a moment of taking everything in. A tarp was laid out over one of the red couches, and Alexander assumed it was for the ivy painted on the ceiling, stemming from the light fixture above the sofa. 

“It is all my aunt.” Laf’s voice cut through Alex’s thoughts, and he stopped staring at the ceiling to find the taller teen standing in the doorway, holding a pile of pajamas. “I got my skills from her, I am thankful to say.”

“Where is she?” Alexander slurred, feeling the beginning of a hangover take their place as exhaustion suddenly hit him like a train.

“New Jersey, I think.” He yawned back, throwing a pair of pajamas at Alexander. “Had to get a statue or something for an upcoming event.” 

“And your parents?” Alex asked, realizing suddenly that Laf hadn’t really mentioned them before.

Lafayette tensed. “Uhm… My parents are…” He bit his lip and paused in his efforts to get his shirt off. “Gone.” He settled on, tossing his shirt across the room and grabbing his pair of pajama pants off of where they laid on the couch, next to Hercules, who was half-asleep and refusing to change.

“Oh…” Alexander froze, preparing for some form of scolding – whether it be physical or not. “I- I’m really sorry, I didn’t- I didn’t know-”

“Alexandre?” Alex swallowed thickly, flinching at Laf’s voice slightly. “It is alright. I have never told you, I am sorry, I should have. My father died before I was born, and my maman… Left me with my aunt after I was born. Fucked off to France without me.”

“I know what that’s like.” Alexander muttered, suddenly losing that little voice that told him what to say and what not to.

“You… What?” Hercules sat up slowly, suddenly more awake and staring at Alexander with confusion.

“Oh uh… You know what, never mind – it’s not-”

“This is why you are fostered?”

“Lafayette!” 

Alexander didn’t even have time to truly process what Laf had said before Herc smacked a hand against the French teen’s chest like a mother scolding her child. Laf bristled immediately and seemed to stand taller over Hercules – who stood up to match his soulmates stance – and Alexander’s heart dropped at the thought of his two friends fighting over something stupid just because they’d had one too many Dixie-cups of beer.

“N- No, Herc, it’s okay, really, it’s fine.” Alexander was quick to move between the two, pushing them apart before they could get into a drunken half-asleep brawl.

“But, it is, is it not?” 

Herc turned, ready to scold Lafayette once again, but Alexander was desperate to change the subject, even if this was the only way.

“Yes, yes! It is!” He shoved himself between the two again, worried something might happen, but they immediately backed off, their drunken interest in a fight diminishing as Alexander spoke.

“Alexandre… What do you-”

“Just… Sit down.” Alex sighed, angry at himself for putting himself in yet another position to get asked such questions. 

_No,_ He thought. _You trust them don’t you?_ Half his brain said. _But what happens when they get sick of you? Or do something stupid and they hate you and start spreading rumors all over the school?!_ The other side argued. _You’ve already told them you’re a soulmate-less freak, what’s the point? If they spread anything, it’ll probably be that… It’s not like this is going to make it any worse-_

“Alex?”

His vision slid back into focus at Herc’s voice, and he cleared his head of his thoughts before turning to his two friends, who sat together on the un-tarped sofa, cuddled against each other and looking at Alexander in worry. A sudden pain knifed its way through his skull.

“Laf, do you have any Ibuprofen?” Alex asked, rubbing his temples as he sat on the edge of the armchair, slightly glad that the effects of the alcohol were finally wearing off and he could think somewhat straight. But alcohol wearing off meant a killer hangover, and it wouldn’t matter that he could finally form a sentence in he was asleep before it ended.

He took a deep breath as Laf got up to go dig in the cabinets of the kitchen, which was right behind the living room, for medicine.

“You can talk about it, Alex; it’s okay.” Hercules promised, sitting up a little straighter.

“Fuck, why do we always talk about the deep shit when John’s not here?” Herc didn’t react. “Alright, well, uhm… When I was about five or six my dad left. He hadn’t wanted anything to do with me from the beginning – my mom used to say it was a miracle that he stayed that long…. We lived with my aunt and cousin after the house was foreclosed and, when I was thirteen… I got, uhm… I got really, really sick, and my mom she- she tried to help me get better – she was just being a good mom – and- and she- she got sick and- uh… And she wasn’t as strong as me I guess be- because she, uhm… She died about a week later. I was with her when she… Anyway, I stayed with my aunt and my cousin until I was almost fifteen, my- my cousin, Peter, killed himself – drove my aunt half-mad. She was taken to some mental asylum off-island and I’ve kind of just been in foster care ever since. Everyone around me just kind of… Died?” He sighed. He had told this story to thousands of social workers before, but it felt so different when saying it to people he trusted – people he knew. His friends.

Maybe if he was less drunk, less giddy, he would care about what he was saying. Usually stories like these were kept way, way at the back of whatever twisted mindscape Alexander had. But now he was sharing them without caution. It went against everything he had – every wall and barrier and feeling he had – but it somehow felt… Right? It felt good to tell people his stories, to let them know that he was weak because he had been so strong.

He let his voice of reason drown, and prayed that his mouth didn’t say anything too stupid while in autopilot.

A thick silence swept over the room. “Merde, Alexandre, why did you not… You have never said that before.” Laf’s eyes were fixed on Alex from where he stood, listening to what Alex was saying from the kitchen.

“Not exactly going to be the first thing out of my mouth now is it, Laf?” He wasn’t mad of course; he was just fed-up. That story always drained him, and this had been the abridged version. The memory of the first time he told anyone surfaced in his mind, but he didn’t find the need to hold back tears. He felt empty. He hated feeling empty.

“Alexander, how long have you been in foster care?” Hercules asked quietly, leaning away from the back of the couch slightly, enthralled with Alexander’s story.

“Oh uhm… Almost three years?” Alex shrugged, leaning back into the couch, earning slight gasps from the two other boys. He knew how they felt; everyone had the same reaction. _Poor little island boy_ – three years without a family seemed like a long time to those in a functioning living situation. It didn’t to Alex.

“So… The Washington’s aren’t your first foster home?” Hercules questioned. 

“In New York, yes. But that comes with the implication that you can even call Nevis’ foster care, foster care. Those bitches would put me with anyone. _Anyone._ ” He spat, his face contorting like he had smelled something awful.

“Like… Who?” Laf asked, setting the medicine down next to him and sitting back on the couch With Hercules.

“Oh, everyone!” He gestured broadly. “Some places were better than the shit-show I’d grown up with – one family I stayed with for a month had a pool – but a lot were the same, maybe worse; if that’s even possible. The one I stayed with the longest – almost eight months – barely had enough food to feed their kids. Most nights I just managed without food – which is probably why I eat so weirdly now – and don’t give me that look, Laf, I know how you look at me when I eat. Everyone looks at me like that. Can’t blame them, though; only person I can think of who got a hot meal every day in St. Croix was the Prime Minister, and honestly, just fuck that guy. Raise a glass to freedom, huh?” He snickered, chugging the glass of water Laf had brought him and throwing the two pills into his mouth with a gulp.

“Can I ask you something?” Herc started.

“You just did.”

“No- Alexander, come on.” He sighed.

“Fine, shoot.”

“Why do you flinch so much? Was that one of the homes, too?”

Alex thought for a moment before nodding. “There were a few houses, but… There was this one family that was really bad… A husband and a wife, and their daughter – only about two or three years old, I think. The wife was fine – didn’t like the way I ran my mouth, though – but the husband had a real problem with me. He used to hit me and degrade me whenever his wife was gone; just hard enough to leave bruises but not put me in the ER. I didn’t think anything of it, really – beatings aren’t an uncommon form of punishment in the foster system, I’ve heard stories of so much worse, especially on Nevis – but there was this one night that he came into my room, and-”

Alexander stopped himself, his brain going a million miles a minute and his usual filter for this kind of stuff being ignored by the amount of alcohol in his system. His brain had said the stupid thing, and he hadn’t caught it before it slipped out.

“And what, Alexander?! What did he do?!” Laf asked, crossing the room to kneel in front of Alexander, his eyebrows knit together in worry and his eye shining slightly.

“N- Never mind.”

“Alexander, what happened!” Laf begged, pulling at the smaller teens arm in intense worry, but Alexander only sighed, turning away from his friend.

“N- No, I know what you’re thinking and… Look, he didn’t rape me, alright? Shit like that happens literally every day in foster care, I know, but… No, it wasn’t like that, okay?”

“What happened ‘Lexi?” Herc asked, coming to stand by Alexander’s chair.

Alex sighed again and swung his legs over the arm of the small chair, laying sideways in it and hugging one of the decorative pillows slightly, begging for sleep. 

“I… I don’t really remember. He was trying to do something, something bad, I know that – he got mad, I think I kicked him – and then I ran? I don’t remember much, but I guess I ran pretty far, pretty fast. I got out of there the next day – plain and simple.”

“Do… Do the Washington’s know? About all this?”

“Sort of? It was in my file I guess, but most of it was made to sound like I was the bad guy. _‘Reported sexual assault – Running from home – Reported abuse…_ None of it was actually proved; the police were notified but there was no investigation, no arrest, no trial. They’re still out there, all of those shitty families. Probably have some other kid now.” He shrugged, taking another gulp of water.

The room went quiet. Nobody knew what to say – not that there was anything to say. Laf leaned forward slowly to rest his head on Alex’s lap, while Herc draped a blanket around the smaller teen, smiling slightly at him before walking off to get changed. 

Laf didn’t move until Hercules was dressed, flicking the lights off and bathing the room in a still darkness before shuffling back to lay on the couch with his soulmate.

“You wanna watch TV, ‘Lexi?” Hercules mumbled from across the room, as Alexander forced himself to stand up and get changed; not want to fall asleep in such a warm house with so many layers on.

“Uhm… Sure. You know, Full House re-runs are usually on about now.” He yawned, pulling one of Laf’s oversized shirts over his head. If there was one thing he loved about his friends, it was that they could easily move on without holding onto whatever sob-story Alexander told them about his past. He hated the couples that interviewed him crying when he told them his story. Some kids had it worse - it honestly wasn't fair.

Herc clicked the TV on and went searching through the channels, pulling Laf closer as the French teen pulled his bun out.

“Neat. Also, I hate to say it, but you look a lot like Jefferson, Laffy.” Herc smiled at his soulmate as Alexander flopped side-ways into the armchair, curling up into it and pulling the blanket back over him.

“You do, Frenchie, and it’s making my blood boil.” Alexander joked, yawning in the process and making everyone else in the room yawn.

“Goodnight, Alexandre.” Laf mumbled quietly, muffled by Hercules’ shirt. “Thank you for telling me about those things. I will keep your secrets safe.” 

“Me too, ‘Lex. Goodnight.” Herc’s voice was soft and sleepy from across the room, and the sound of soft snoring, most likely from Lafayette, quickly followed.

“I trust you guys.” 

The realization that it felt good to say that hit him like a truck, because after saying all of those things before, his brain had reluctantly kicked back into gear, and he was now back in charge of what he was saying. But he hadn’t even had to think about saying that he trusted his friends. “Goodnight.”

The soft sound of the TV – playing some old rerun of that ‘90’s show that Alex had grown up with – buzzed in the background as he began nodding off to sleep. He hugged the embroidered pillow tighter, noting that smelled like Laf – like vanilla, coffee beans, and chocolate.

He turned his phone on under the covers as not to annoy the other two boys, and opened one of the most un-texted contacts he had.

_To: Alice, 3:46 AM_

_I think I’m going to stay._

He had only just clicked send when he fell asleep, nodding off with the knowledge that he was surrounded by people he trusted, people he cared about. And the fact that tomorrow he was going to have a killer headache.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so tired and I'm not even sorry.


	8. He Will Never Be Satisfied

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alexander doesn't have a soulmate, and John wishes he could be the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Mentions of an Abusive Relationship
> 
> Quick warning, the only reference I had for an abusive relationship was the clip from the Steven Universe Episode "Lost At Sea" (Yes I know that sounds stupid but that does actually have all the elements of an abusive relationship in it (Dark shit for a kid's show, I know)) so I'm sorry if I got something wrong. 
> 
> This is a disclaimer that if you are or think you are in an abusive relationship don't hesitate to get help.

John felt… Empty.

If there was one way to describe himself, that’s was it. He wasn’t happy, but he wasn’t necessarily sad. He would know if he was happy, wouldn’t he? Sure, there were times when he laughed and smiled and couldn’t feel sad, but that didn’t mean that he felt happy. And yes, he wasn’t one to cry much or sit in bed all day, doing nothing because overwhelming sadness was all that he was capable of feeling – he wasn’t like Alexander – but that didn’t mean that it wasn’t possible for him to get sad or hurt.

It was just that neither feeling happened long enough for John to really let himself indulge in them.

Until he met Alexander.

That night after all that drinking – his birthday – was three days passed and yet… He couldn’t quite drop the dopey smile on his face.

And suddenly, both feelings were hitting him like a train. 

Saturday was spent locked in his room.

Alexander didn’t like him. Alex would never like him. And even if he did, his father would never approve of him and Alex. Henry Laurens Sr. already disliked Lafayette for being so touchy and affectionate towards John in the signature way that _most French people are_ , and Hercules was indulging in a woman’s activity – how dare he use his amazing talents to clothe the homeless by making what he could for charity and knitting sweaters for his struggling family. John felt his body begin to shake at the thought of telling Alexander how he felt. Laf had even tried texting him during his extreme wallowing, but all John could do was sigh, and chuck his phone across the bed. John loved every aspect of Alexander. The way every embrace the two shared reminded John that the shorter teen smelled of cinnamon and pen ink, the way Alexander wouldn’t shut up about something if he was passionate about it, the way he was passionate about everything, _that smile_ …

Sunday was spent smiling.

Alexander had _blushed_. Sure, he had drunk, but John had not been. Intoxicated, sure, but not drunk. Far from it, in fact. Far enough from it to know what he had been saying, and know that Alexander had blushed. _He had blushed_. John knew Alex had pushed him away because he was embarrassed – that was obvious – but there was no indication that it had been anything more. He didn’t say that John was disgusting for even daring to suggest such activities, didn’t shy away from the fact that John was really into him.

Monday was dreaded.

He made a point to get to school late, not wanting to walk with his friends but also not wanting to get up early enough to ensure they wouldn’t see him. The only time that he saw any of them was lunch, and if he could just keep his head clear until then, he could stay quiet while they ate, and ignore them until he came up with a solution.

It wouldn’t be such a fucking problem if Alexander wasn’t so _goddamn cute_.

First and second period were awful. He’d been so stressed this weekend, and the pounding hangover that he had was just adding onto the reasons that he refused to even pick up a pencil. He didn’t doubt that Alex had been the opposite, and from what Laf had texted him on Saturday, it sounded like not even throwing up at someone else’s house was enough to stop the poor boy from creating an absolutely annihilating speech for debate. Of course, it was honestly probably because he was up against Jefferson later today, but he didn’t doubt that it wouldn’t have been as amazing anyway. Alexander was amazing anyway.

The first part of third period was spent trying to hide a bloody nose and spinning head after seeing Alexander and Angelica down the hall and running into the door as he made a break for his class to avoid them. It ensured that Alex wouldn’t see him, but also made him stuff a surplus of tissues up his nose during the entirety of class, ignoring Eliza and Maria’s protests to go to the nurse because he could barely stand up. In the process of ramming the middle of his face directly into the wood, he had also managed to hit his head, forcing his vision to blur and swim.

The second half of third period was spent in the nurse’s office, an ice pack lying over the lower half of his face and numbing the warm pain in his nose. It wasn’t broken – probably – but Eliza refused to leave his side – mostly to skip on Math, which she insisted was an idiotic course anyway, because she already had all her Math credits, _it’s ridiculous_ – but he was in enough pain to let out whines and groans every thirty seconds as he begged the nurse not to call his father.

Eliza told him to find his happy place – don’t let the pain in, just focus on something else. So he thought of Alex. He thought of those dimples in his cheeks, the slight scruff on his chin, the way he teeth gritted every time Jefferson walked by. The way his mind worked, the way he saw the world and wanted _so badly_ to fix everything. The way he blushed… The way he would look underneath John-

“Johnny?!” A voice pulled him from the cold, watery depths of his half-awake daze. His vision was still blurry, but he could feel Eliza’s hand squeeze his shoulder as she tensed. “Oh, my goodness, are you okay?”

He recognized the voice, but his head was too busy swimming with thoughts – or maybe it was swimming with emptiness, he didn’t know – to try and process whoever the fuck was so worried about a bloody nose.

“Listen, I think John just wants-” But Eliza was too slow on the draw.

“Shut it, bitch!” The female voice bounced through his stuffy skull, and two hands were quickly on his shoulders as the attention was placed back on him, shaking him like he was asleep and needed to wake up. “Are you okay? Can you hear me?”

John cracked open his eyes to find Martha Manning, his soulmate. A bruise covered her nose, but it looked almost like a tattoo; like it wasn’t quite hers. No, it was obviously her soulmate’s – it was obviously John’s. If John had looked in the mirror right then, the exact same bruise would be on his nose; darker and much more prominent than Martha’s, but still there.

“M- Martha, I can hear you. I’m fine.” His words were barely coherent due to the blood that still clogged his nose, but she managed to stop shaking him. “I’m okay,”

“Oh, my gosh, I was so worried! Maria told me what happened!”

“Mari? But she-” He stopped his sentence, knowing this was no time to tell Martha that Maria hated every inch of her being. “S- She wouldn’t tell you that – I asked her not to!”

“Oh, well… She took a little… Convincing.” Her voice was sickly sweet as a disgusting grin spread out across her features.

“Convincing?” John echoed.

Eliza’s face went dark. “What’ve you done to her?”

Martha ignored her, shushing John. “It’s okay honey, she’s just a bit… Shaken up.” Her tone told him what he needed to know though. She turned her attention back to Eliza, her hands still on John’s shoulders as her face fell into a disgusted snarl. “Your whore said she wanted you, lesbo.”

Eliza was on her feet in an instant, and Martha was quick to scramble back on the small bed, knocking John’s feet into the wall next to him and moving the top part of his body directly into the nightstand next to his bed, hitting his head on the corner and making him cry out as pain jabbed through his nose. In an instant, Eliza was at his side, asking if he was okay and crouching to see the damage.

“Don’t you touch him!” Martha lunged over John’s legs – disrupting his position once again and making his vision swim – and smacked Eliza’s hand away with an audible slap as she tried to stop John from touching his nose.

“You son of a-” Eliza lunged towards Martha, who scrambled back, ignoring John’s groans and wails of pain, but John tried his hardest to sit up and throw his hand between the two girls, quickly falling backward as pain spiked through the slight bend in his nose.

“Li- Lizzie, just- just, go find Mari. Okay? Please?” He begged, shuffling back against the pillow behind him and looking up at Eliza with watery eyes. She bit her lip for a moment before glaring back at Martha and nodding slightly.

“I’ll be back, okay? Take care of yourself? Text me if you need something?”

“I will, ‘Liza. Goodbye.” He smiled softly and didn’t miss the look Eliza shot him from over her shoulder as she walked to the door, closing it without taking her eyes off of John and offering him a small smile. Unfortunately, neither did Martha.

“Ugh, God, what a bitch.” She scoffed, her eyes not moving from the closed door.

“Don’t talk about her like that. Eliza’s my friend- Look, I won’t let you do this again.”

“I didn’t say anything mean, calm your fucking tits, Johnny. She was all over you – you saw it. Why can’t she just stay in her own fucking lane, like let the straight one of us suck dick and she and that slut, Maria or whatever, can go and-”

“Stop.”

Martha scoffed, finally looking up at John. “Oh, so now you’re all over her? Jesus I can’t catch a fucking break around here, can I?! I don’t understand why you even still hang out with her – and her fucking annoying sisters for that matter. Even when we were still dating you’re eyes followed them everywhere.”

“You can’t do this- I can’t let you just walk all over me okay? You don’t get a say in who I hang out with and who I don’t. Maybe it was too late when I realized I could decide for myself who I didn’t want in my life, and you know what? I’m glad I started with you.” He stood up to go find Eliza again, ignoring his shaky steps as the floor swayed under him, but Martha was quick to push him back onto the bed.

The back of his shoe hit the side of the bottom of the side table, however, and he fell right back onto the bed, nausea rising in his stomach as he threw thousands of tissues under his nose to catch the fountain of blood. Maybe Eliza was right, maybe it was broken.

But before he could think too much about that, a weight – a heavy one, at that – was splayed onto his hips, and he looked up to find Martha, one leg on each side of his hips, straddling him.

“Well, why don’t I show you how much of a mistake that was…” Her hands trailed up his stomach, pulling his shirt up with them.

“N- No, Martha get off me, we- we can’t-” He tried to coordinate his hands to push her off, but she was quick to pin his wrists down. 

“Shh, shh, Johnny-boy…” She wiggled her hips, leaning down until her lips met his neck. “The nurse is out on lunch break, and they don’t have security cameras in here. No-one’s going to see us. Don’t be frigid.” He could feel her hot breathe on his neck as she started biting and sucking at his collarbone.

“You know what I told the boys, don’t you? About… Us?” He asked quietly, her lips still plastered onto his body as he stared at the ceiling, not caring about Martha’s hands roaming all over his body or the way her hips wiggled on his waist. He was used to it.

She looked up. “…What?”

“What I told them when we broke up. I told them we were on a break. I told them I missed you. And… I do? I do, I miss you, but… I don’t want you. And I don’t want you back.” He shoved a wad of tissues to his face, mopping up the blood as he shuffled away from the girl weakly, is head still spinning.

“I can change, Johnny, honestly, I can!”

“You manipulated me! Do you know how much lying I did for you?! How many times I told Laf and Herc that I had homework to be doing on weekends? How many times I pretended my dad wanted me to do something or my sister needed to be picked up somewhere?! How many times I had to pretend I wanted to have sex with you because otherwise, it was rape?! I had to lie because I couldn’t do anything else! I had to lie because otherwise, it was true! You fucking ruined me!”

“I’m different now! I can be better!”

“No, Martha, that’s not- This isn’t-”

“It’ll be better this time! You changed me!”

“No, n- no, Martha- We can’t- I-”

“You know you can’t live without me! I’m the only person who understands you! You’ll never find anyone like me!”

“I _have_ found someone Martha!”

The room went quiet, and Martha’s face dropped.

There was a pause. “You… Found someone?”

“Y- Yes. Yes, I did. His… His name is Alexander. And he’s- he’s better than you.”

“He’s… He’s better than me? Me? Your soulmate?!”

“Alex didn’t force me to shut myself away from my friends and worry about talking to people. Do you know how long it took me to open back up to Laf?! We dated for almost eight months, and in that time you managed to fuck me up so bad that I felt awful for saying ‘Hello’ to Hercules every morning! How fucking long it took me to look Angelica in the eye?! Because every time it was someone else, every time I wasn’t talking _directly to you_ , my skin crawled.”

“John, you know I didn’t mean-”

“Martha, it’s been a month. Fucking get over it. I’m not yours, and I never should’ve been.”

“But… But John!” 

“Not going to work, Manning.”

“I still love you!” Tears brimmed in her eyes, and her voice jumped in pitch as she fell to her knees, clinging to John’s jeans, sobbing into the crook of her arm.

“No, you don’t. You love the idea of me. You love having someone to control. I can’t believe I miss that. I can’t believe let myself be that person. I can’t believe I still love you.”

The room froze.

“You… You what?”

“I-”

The door opened before either one could say anything else, though, and in rushed Eliza and Peggy, with Maria hanging onto Eliza’s arm for dear life, the way a small child held onto their mother when crossing a street of busy cars.

Maria’s eyes went wide as her gaze rested on Martha, and the three girls paused in the doorway.

“John? You okay?” Peggy asked, stepping forward slightly, as if ready to stand between the two.

“Uhm… I’m- I’m fine, yeah. Martha… Martha was just leaving. Weren’t you?” He turned his gaze back to the crestfallen girl kneeling in front of him with a look that translated ‘I’m sorry’ into every movement.

He felt the way he did when they’d first started dating. He was sorry that he was even looking at Eliza. He was sorry that he didn’t want Martha – he should always want Martha. He was sorry he loved her.

Martha didn’t move for a moment, before composing her sobbing self as best as she could, and standing up. Mascara rolled down her shining cheeks, and she sniffed slightly with every word.

“Y- Yeah. Just leaving.” She nodded, staring at the ground. She took one last look at John before shuffling over to the door, not bothering to glare back at Eliza as she passed.

The door clicked shut, and she was gone.

“What’d she say to you?” Maria sniffled, pushing her hair behind her ear and shuffling out from behind Eliza.

“Doesn’t matter.” He grunted back, sitting back down on the bed and gladly accepting the small cup of water Peggy offered him from the cooler near the door. “You okay Mari? What’d she do to you?” He turned his attention back to the Maria, tearing his eyes from the door.

“Uhm… Listen, it was nothing-”

“She hit her,” Peggy interjected, staring directly at John. “Found her crying in the bathroom.”

Eliza smacked her sister’s chest and stared at her incredulously, snapping Peggy’s focus back to her older sister. “Margarita!”

“N- No,” Maria shook her head, stepping out between her sisters. “No, it’s okay, ‘Liza. Y- Yeah, she hit me, Johnny… She saw you leave; didn’t know where you went. I wasn’t gonna tell her but… I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have told her. Did she hurt you?”

“Not on purpose. Not here – she wouldn’t.” John sighed, gladly taking an ice-pack from Eliza and pressing it gently against his nose. “And it’s not your fault, hon. She’s such a…” He paused, not wanting to say it.

“Bitch.” Eliza finished, earning a gasp from her girlfriend and sister. “Sorry, but it’s true.”

“You’re not wrong.” John shrugged. “Can’t believe I’m linked to that… Monster.” He sighed.

The room went quiet for a moment. “You look pale. You feel okay?” Peggy asked, pressing a cool, tan hand against his forehead. “Jeez, babs… Listen, we should go get the nurse; c’mon, ‘Lizzie.”

Eliza nodded at her, and the two were quick to leave. Deafening silence filled the room as soon as they were gone.

John scratched at his wrist, a slight burning sensation spreading over his covered fore-arm.

“What’s she saying?” Maria whispered, staring at his hand as he itched at his jacket.

John stared at her for a moment before slowly pulling up the fabric of his jacket.

‘ _I still love you, John_ ’

John shook his head slowly, his gaze not leaving the pen markings on his wrist. “Nothing important.” He pulled his sleeve back down and turned his gaze to the floor.

Maria sighed. “I know that look.” She sat down in one of the squishy purple chairs on the opposite side of the room, facing him as she sat on the edge, leaning forward slightly. 

“What look?” He turned his attention up to her, awkwardly shrugging and trying his hardest to come off as relaxed even though his thoughts buzzed with Martha’s face, her hair, _that smile_ …

“ _That_ look.” She paused, looking at him as he stared at the ground. “You still love her don’t you?”

“What’s it to you?”

“You can’t do that, John. You know you can’t. Look at me!” His eyes snapped up to meet hers, and his heart dropped. She looked scared – terrified, even. Her eyebrows were knit together in worry, and a hint of urgency tugged at her words. “You remember what happened with me and Reynolds, don’t you?”

“Mari, I-”

“You remember what he did to me?!”

“Maria, Martha isn’t like-”

“She’s my soulmate, John! Eliza’s my soulmate, and he wouldn’t let me talk to her! For months! And then it just got worse! You remember that don’t you?! You remember it well enough to promise me you’ll stay clear of her?!”

“This isn’t your choice Maria!” John stood up – maybe a little too fast – and immediately fell to the floor.

“Fucking hell…” Maria whispered, her footsteps clicking towards him quickly. An arm was quickly wrapped around his waist, and he was hoisted upwards, flopping back onto the bed with all the grace and poise of a wet sock.

“S- Sorry.” He muttered, sitting up in the bed carefully and gripping his head as Maria handed him his ice pack and a cup of water. “Shouldn’t- Shouldn’t have yelled. Shouldn’t have stood up.”

Maria shook her head, biting her lip and staring at John as she sat on the edge of the bed.

“Promise me you won’t talk to her. Promise me! Please…?”

“I…” He sighed, looking away from her. “I promise. I’m sorry.”

As soon as she nodded back at him, the door swung open and in came Eliza, Peggy, and the nurse. He was immediately surrounded by the four women, bustling and cooing over him as the nurse scolded the other three for not getting her sooner.

But John was too zoned out to care. The only thing he was worried about was how he was going to tell Martha that he still loved her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not dead!!! I'm sorry this one took so long to write, I actually had to add a day onto how long it took because my internet turns off t 12 every night and I finished this at 12:01 but Word on my phone WOULDN'T ACKNOWLEDGE THE NEW CHAPTER???? I wrote it on my laptop and couldn't figure out how to get it to my phone to post while on data- ANYWAY! I hope you liked it! ;)


	9. You Think I'm Frightened Of You, Man?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jefferson is a douche one last time before shit really hits the fan.

Alex had to practically throw himself out the door on Monday.

The remnants of Friday night still loomed over him, buzzing in his mind and painting heavy bags under his eyes, showcasing his lack of sleep. Even after three days, the effects were still clawing at him, forcing his head to hurt to the point where all he could do was pace in his room and sit on the fire escape with a blanket wrapped around his torso, breathing out white clouds of air as his phone lit up with the ongoing conversation between him, Laf, Herc and the Schuyler’s.

He hadn’t texted John since Friday night.

He knew it was a really shitty move, but it wasn’t like he was going out of his way to ignore John. No, in fact, John had texted Alex as many times as Alex had texted John.

0.

That didn’t stop Laf, though, and Alexander didn’t doubt that John heard all about Alex not being able to hold his liquor when he woke up at Laf’s house. He also didn’t doubt that John knew that he had spent most of his weekend locked in his room, writing down dialogue and perfecting directions, while also managing to finish the pile of homework he had and still write a speech to destroy Jefferson in debate.

He practically had to jog down the sidewalk with a piece of toast in his mouth, his oversized sweater jumping up and down with every step as he tried to frantically shove notebooks and papers into his bag, pulling his hair back and tying his shoes all at the same time.

Martha had almost begged him to stay home, knowing he was in no state to go to school after working himself to the bone all weekend, but he refused, knowing he’d done way too much work to not show Eliza the last few parts of her script and turn in the book report that he’d poured his heart and soul into.

Or to see the look on Jefferson’s stupid fucking face as he ripped every argument he’d ever had against Alex to shreds with his speech.

His feet pelted against the concrete as he panted, out-running taxi’s, old ladies, and the Labradoodle that chased him for almost four blocks. He had somehow managed to eat the entire piece of toast without using his hands, and only stopped running when he passed a bakery by Herc’s house; using their large glass window to examine himself, thanking the Universe that it had a curtain over it inside so that no one in the shop would be subject to his half-assed morning routine.

He flattened his hair and pulled up the ponytail that had slipped out of place, he rubbed at the bags under his eyes in an attempt to make them go away, he inspected the stubble on his chin and made a silent promise to shave the next day.

He didn’t, however, hear the quiet tinkle of the bell over the bakery door, signaling that someone was exiting.

“Alexandre?” Laf’s voice was unmistakable, but that didn’t stop Alex from jumping out of his skin at the sudden acknowledgement.

He whipped around to find Laf, in all his purple eyeshadow and skirt-clad glory. The pair of glossy red high heels that covered his feet clicked their way over to Alex, and he was met with a black lipstick-smear on either cheek as Laf wrapped him in a hug, smiling broadly and lifting his shorter friend off the ground slightly.

“Jesus, Laf, you scared the shit out of me!” Alex huffed, tensing at the sudden contact but mentally refusing to push his friend away.

“What are you doing here?” Laf giggled back, crushing Alex’s bones with a squeeze.

“I- Dude I need to breathe-” Laf loosened the hug a little, and Alex sighed exasperatedly. “I thought you guys left me so I was just heading straight to Yorktown- Okay seriously I can feel myself turning blue, do you mind?”

Laf chuckled and put his friend down, looking him over with a smile that dropped suddenly as his face fell into worried disappointment.

“Alex… Did you not sleep at all, _petit chose_?” He asked, running his thumb over the bags under Alex’s eyes, only to be pushed away as Alex acted on instinct.

“Sorry, uhm… N- No, not really.” He shrugged, suddenly feeling his ears burn under Lafayette’s worried gaze.

“Alexandre, I though Hercules and I said for you to sleep more was a good idea!” Laf shook his head, his perfect eyebrows knitting together in worry.

“I’m sleep deprived and even I know that sentence barely made any sense.”

“I am serious, Alex!”

“Yeah, well you’re not my mom, Laf! Okay? I’ll do what I want.” Alex turned harshly on his friend and began to make his way down the sidewalk.

The clacking of heels didn’t follow, and Alex stopped after about fifteen paces, expecting Laf to follow him.

“Well come one then.” He growled over his shoulder, walking forward a little bit.

“Are we not forgetting two of our posse?” Laf asked, adding John’s signature Southern accent to the last word. “Or would you rather leave _Nos Amis_ behind?”

Alex hesitated for a moment, thinking it over, before turning around and soon walking side-by-side down the concrete path in complete silence with Laf, both their noses tucked deep inside their jackets and their eyes frozen and burning.

Eventually, they made it to a tall, brick building, about three blocks from the bakery. It was in what was probably deemed the ‘Bad part of town’, and Laf seemed acutely aware of this as they walked, letting Alexander hug his arm tightly and made sure not to touch the smaller teen due to how jumpy he seemed.

“Which one is his?” Alexander asked quietly, staring at each individual window with a flickering gaze and suddenly realizing he’d never been inside Hercules’ home.

“Whichever one I manage to hit, hopefully.” Laf chuckled, digging through his backpack quickly until he pulled out a small bag of Goldfish. Taking a handful, he reeled back and chucked it at the far-right, second-story window – the one with red curtains and a human rights flag hanging from the fire escape.

Alexander envied the way Laf tossed the food around like it was nothing. He ducked his head and looked away as another handful was thrown, remembering times when he would’ve killed for a handful of Goldfish.

The sound of a window opening snapped his attention back up, however, and he stared up at the open window to find Hercules – No. Not Hercules. Hercules with dreadlocks, glasses, and the most uninterested look on his face as a third wave of Goldfish hit him in the face.

“Ah! _Bien Nuit_ , Hugh! Is _mon souer_ at the disposal?”

“ _Our_ disposal.” The man leaning out of the window corrected, crossing his arms and leaning on the window pane. He even sounded like Herc, but with a lower, almost monotone voice. “And yeah, I’ll get him.” The man disappeared back into his home, and he was quickly heard yelling Hercules’ name throughout the apartment.

“And… That was?” Alex asked, not liking the idea of new, random people around him.

“Hercules’ brother, Hugh. Hercules is not of an age to live alone, so when his mother is under care, he is staying with Hugh.”

“He… He never mentioned an older brother to me…” Alexander shifted uncomfortably, realizing he was stupid to not have connected the pieces.

“Ah, well… You know Herc, non? He would never mention anything if it meant bringing up his _maman_.”

“I know how he feels.” Alex muttered, not quite loud enough for Laf to hear.

“Ah! Speak of the devil and he shall appear!” Lafayette chirped, his eyes fixed on his soulmate as he clambered down the fire escape, a bowl of cereal in one hand and his bag slung over his shoulder.

“You guys get Johnny?” He called down at the two of them, climbing down the rusty ladder and trying to eat his Apple Jacks at the same time.

“Non, we we’re about to leave for him.” Laf planted a firm kiss on the other teen’s lips as soon as he was off the ladder, and Herc only gave a slight noise of surprise before melting into it, smiling against Laf’s black lipstick. Alex looked away, suddenly very interested in a nearby mailbox.

“Poor kid’s still probably recovering…” Herc laughed, wiping the black smear off his lips. “He really shouldn’t drink so much for a little guy.”

It only took a few minutes of loud banter for the three to get to John’s apartment. Laf took out his phone, clicking John’s contact, but before he could dial the number, Herc all but slapped the phone from his hands as he warned him.

“Hey wait, there’s Henry!”

Alex turned his gaze to where Herc was pointing, and was met with the sight of a small boy, sitting on the cement stairs outside with a backpack twice his size on, bouncing legs, and a wonder-filled gaze plastered to his freckled face. Poor kid, still so enthused about life. Alex remembered being like that.

“Henry!”

The boy turned his gaze at Laf’s call, and the two teens sauntered towards him with Alex trailing behind them nervously.

The boy shifted awkwardly.

“Dad says I’m not supposed to talk to you; he doesn’t like that you hold hands.”

Neither of them changed in their demeanors, their faces not faltering one bit and their hands tightening around each other. “We just came to walk John to school.” Was all Laf said, his firm but soft voice not wavering.

“Oh, he left already. Martha said he went before 6.” The boy’s voice was quiet, as though he knew he would get in trouble for talking with the boys.

“He did? John never leaves that early.”

Alex’s heart sank. John really was avoiding him as best as possible.

Laf shrugged. “We will just have to meet him there. Thank you, Henry.”

The three boys set off again, but slower this time. Hercules’ eyes were trained to a window three stories up with a Dominican flag hanging over it, shielding the inside. Alex assumed that was John’s room, hating that it was dark, with no signs of life coming from inside.

“Why does everyone have siblings I was never told about?” Alex muttered suddenly, breaking the silence.

Laf only chuckled. “John does not love his family, Alex. You cannot blame the poor boy.”

“ _Like_ , Laf. John loves his family; they just aren’t the best people all the time. He doesn’t _like_ them.”

“Well it’s not like your one to talk, Mulligan. Why didn’t you tell me you had a brother?”

Laf shot him a look, but Herc only waved his boyfriend off. “I don’t see him much, you know? By the time when I was born, he was, oh what… 5? 6 maybe? We’re not exactly all chum-y with each other, ‘Lex.”

“Alexandre, do you have any, uhm… _Frères et sœurs_?” Laf asked, hands in his coat pockets as they paused at the intersection across from the school, waiting for the lights to change.

“Uhm… Not really? I had a brother but he was way older than me; and from what I know, he died in the hurricane.” Alex said it nonchalantly, but something about him shifted slightly. His hands dug deeper in his pockets, trying his hardest not to itch at his burning skin out of anxiousness, and his gaze flicked to a patch of melting snow on the ground.

“Oh… _Merde_ , Alex, I am sorry, I should not have-”

“N- No, Laf, it’s okay, I’m sorry, I just… I never really met him, you know? I know as much about him as you do…”

Laf wrapped the smaller boy in a hug that wasn’t flinched away from, holding him like that until a soft tap on his back notified him that it was safe to cross. Hercules gave a happy sigh as they made it to the other side of the street, getting to a small underpass that harbored a sidewalk full of shivering pedestrians above it. It was empty, which was even more gratifying, because it meant they no longer had to wade through snow or people to get to the school.

Laf opened his mouth to apologize once again, but before he could, a cold, wet ball of snow hit him from behind, right in the back of the head. “Ow! _Mon Dieu, fils de pu_ -”

The remnants of the snowball fell to the ground, leaving a fingernail-sized pebble in its wake. Hercules turned, almost fuming at the thought that someone would throw such a thing at his boyfriend, but seemed to almost pause when he whirled around to find none other than George King and his friends blocking the exit to the underpass.

“When you’re done cursing like a sailor, French-y, we could put that mouth to better use.” King taunted, the rest of his group trailing behind him, stopping cars as they J-walked across the intersection outside. “I’ll show you what a real man can do for you, huh?”

Laf was quick to turn to Hercules – whose hawk-like gaze still plastered on the group of snickering dickheads – and almost beg him not to go after them.

“Hercules, I know you are upset, but please, _s'il vous plaît_ , they are not worth it. Let us go inside, _non_? It is warmer in there, come on-”

“Touch him a-fucking-gain and you _will_ be sorry.”

“Oh? Is that so?” King began getting dangerously close to the group, Seabury and Lee following behind him. Alex’s eyes were quickly drawn to Jefferson and Burr, who stood in the background across the street still; Jefferson smoking something, and Burr staring at the three advancing boys.

“Seabury? Lee?”

King waltzed right up to Hercules, dragging a finger under his chin before slapping him straight across the face.

“You’re nothing, Hercules. And you’re underage; it’s illegal for you to live without your guardian present.” He snarled, shoving the taller teen harshly. “Wouldn’t it be unfortunate if someone was to inform, oh, I don’t know…” He paused, a malicious glint harboring in his eyes. “CPS?”

Herc’s face dropped. His eyes flicked to Laf, and he was quick to stand in front of the Frenchmen as the three became closer, ignoring the comment to the best of his abilities.

“Oh, that’s right, Mulligan. Be the little one’s guard dog.” King snarled, looking back at Lafayette, who cowered behind Hercules.

“More like his bitch if you ask me.” Seabury gave a small laugh, as if unsure if he was allowed to tell jokes, but relaxed into it as a snicker spread through the group.

That was the breaking point. Hercules snapped.

In an instant, Hercules’ hands flew to Seabury’s collar, holding him about an inch from the ground as Seabury writhed, looking ready to cry and screaming for his soulmate.

“Say it again, you piece of shit, say it again!” Herc shouted, shaking the poor boy by his shirt.

King shoved Seabury from Herc’s grip, ignoring the way Seabury toppled to the ground. Burr and Jefferson, both of whom had been loitering across the street, leaning on the stoplight pole, threw their cigarettes to the ground and ran across the road, managing to slide across the hood of a honking taxi to actually get to their friends.

“You’re outnumbered this time, dipshit.” King snarled, reeling back and slamming his fist across Herc’s face so hard that the poor boy fell to the ground.

Lafayette gave a cry and Alex took a step forward, but King nodded to Thomas, Charles, and Seabury, and Laf was shoved to the ground in an instant. Alex felt fear wash over him, and the familiar feeling of ‘ _Oh dear God, I’m going to be beaten to death_ ’ washed over him the way it had so many times before.

Alex took a shuffling step back as the world began to close in around him. His vision became blurry as he tripped backwards, trying to get away from the fight the way his body screamed at him to do and yet not wanting to move because _oh dear God my friends are gonna fucking die at the hands of these monsters and I’ll be hiding in the bathrooms._

His chest felt tight and tears poured down his face as he watched King deliver kick after kick after kick to Hercules’ side with the help of Thomas, and when he managed to tear his eyes to the left, he caught a glimpse of Laf, nose bloody and wrists pinned to the ground by Seabury’s small hands as Charles straddled him, landing punches to his face as he writhed beneath them.

“Get the Creole bastard or he’ll snitch, Jefferson!” King screeched at his comrade, not pausing in his assault of Mulligan.

Thomas looked up, and almost didn’t move, but King gave him a harsh shove, and the boy launched himself at Alex in an instant. Alex didn’t even scream as he was pushed to the ground, and took the kicks with only sobs.

“This is for the water, bitch.” He annunciated each word with a sharp kick, delivering them right to Alex’s ribs and, as Alex was curled up, his face, leaving what Alex could feel would later be ugly bruises, cuts, and blood.

“Hey!”

It was a new voice that bounced through the underpass; a female’s. The kicking stopped immediately, and the sound of Laf struggling to get his wrists free was heard. He sounded like his nose was clogged, and his grunting was awkward, like all the air had been knocked out of him.

His mouth was probably ripe with blood.

Alex knew his was.

Alex pried his eyes open a sliver, hands still clasped over his head and his knees still brushing his nose – he was curled up tighter than he probably ever had been, and that was saying something – and he looked up to find Angelica, Peggy, and Eliza waiting at the mouth of the tunnel, looking ready to stab a bitch.

“Alex?” Eliza’s gaze was immediately drawn to the poor boy, then to Laf and Herc as she realized that the victims were her best friends. She gasped, covering her mouth, and went to run towards them, but Angelica grabbed her wrist and pulled her back without ever removing her narrow, hawk-like gaze from King.

“Ah, the Schuylers!” King grinned sickeningly, clapping his hands together and sauntering towards the sisters, giving Hercules the chance to sit up weakly on shaking arms and spit blood onto the pavement. He was kicked back down by Charles soon after, however, who had left Seabury to hold Laf’s wrists down and straddle him all at once. Charles’ shoe stayed planted on Hercules’ weakly rising and falling chest, and Hercules made no more attempts to sit up after that.

“Don’t you have anything better to do than torment the weaker?” She snarled. Alexander admired how she managed to make him feel strong in such a moment while also being the saltiest motherfucker he had ever met.

“It was just a little tiff, ‘Gelica. Calm your tits.” He snarled, giving a snap that made Charles backup from Herc, allowing the poor boy to finally breathe. Jefferson backed away from Alex, but not before delivering a particularly harsh kick to his spine, landing a wad of spit on the smaller teen’s cheek.

Laf rolled onto his side, groaning and holding his stomach, his eyes squeezed shut as tears flowed from them, blood dripping from his nose and a scratch on his cheek. Herc propped himself up on a shaky arm, crawling his way to Laf with legs that were almost lame.

“Leave them alone.” Angelica’s voice shook slightly as her eyes glanced to Laf, who writhed on the pavement, choking on sobs as Herc tried to lift his shirt to see the damage.

“Or what?” King scoffed, doing a double take as his eyes landed on Peggy. “Oh, and who’s this?”

“None of your business.” Peggy spat, earning a small, proud smile from her sisters.

“Is that so?” King’s face turned dark. “How dare you speak to me that way! Filthy little slut-”

Angelica took a step in front of her sister, eyes narrowing. “Leave, King. Now.” King scoffed, tucking his hands in his pockets and shaking his head slightly.

“Whatever. Let’s go, boys.” He growled, eyes not leaving Angelica until his friends grouped behind him, leaving together – but not before King snarled at Peggy, earning a threatening step forward from Angelica.

Immediately after the boys were a few steps away, Eliza and Peggy rushed to the victim’s sides. Angelica, though, stood – as though keeping watch to make sure the boys didn’t turn around and run back. As soon as the group turned the corner, though, she slid to her knees next to her sisters, running gentle fingers over a large bruise on Lafayette’s tear-marked, bloody cheeks.

“What the fuck, Hercules?!” She yelled, making Alex flinch deeper into himself, feeling his breathing pick up.

“Shit…” Peggy said airily, kneeling by Alex and looking him over with worried eyes. “Are you okay?! Jesus, he did some damage on you.”

Alex shrugged, pain coursing through him at the action. “’M okay. Been through worse; he fights well, though, I’ll give him that.”

She looped her hand under Alex’s waist, hoisting him up on shaky, uneven legs.

Peggy shot a glance to Hercules, but before she could open her mouth, he looked up at her over Laf’s shoulder, the poor boy shaking like a maniac. “He’ll be okay. Go get Alex cleaned up, I’ll bring Laf in in a bit.”

“I can drive you guys home if you want.”

Alex almost cried at Angelicas offer, and she noticed how he suddenly caught his bruised lip between his teeth, his gaze fixed on the ground.

“Alex,” Eliza spoke up, moving to place a warm hand on his shoulder. “The Washington’s won’t be angry with you. I promise.”

Alex looked at her for a long moment before nodding, letting out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. A cloud of mist came from his mouth, reminding him – for he couldn’t feel it over the warm blood that ran through him, the burning bruises on his body – just how cold it was.

“C’mon, Peggles.” He mumbled, hobbling forward. “We’ll go through the back – I don’t want to run into King and his troupe again.”

“Alexander?” Angelica called as the two walked – well, more of ‘limped’ in Alexander’s case – away from the scene. Alex turned slowly to face her, having to turn like a wide-loaded truck as to not anger the bruises that flowered on his skin.

She gave him a soft smile. “You sure you don’t want to go home?”

Alexander let out an small laugh that showed in the air. “No, but thank you, Angie.” He smiled.

“Alright, well…” She looked back at Laf and Hercules for a moment, tucking her hands in the pockets of her pink hoodie. “If you ever need anything, I’m… I’m willing, alright?”

“Thanks, Angie, but I can clean this up and go to class – honestly, I’m fine.” He added as she gave him a skeptical look.

“Besides,” Peggy added from next to him. “Someone has to destroy Jefferson because of this. May as well be Hamilton and his speech, eh?”

And with that, they made their way from the small underpass into the school, careful to avoid King and Company on the way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not dead!!! I'm sorry this took forever to write, I just got my Tumblr going so I've been focused more on one-shots as of late, you can check it out at @scrabblesense on Tumblr! Sorry, this was sort of just filler but i felt like I really needed to hammer it home that Jefferson is a douchenozzle and Alex hates him. Good? Good.


	10. In The Eye Of The Hurricane There is Quiet, For Just A Moment...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Debate = Shit

By the time Alex made it to debate, he was limping and groaning with each step. His speech was clasped in his hands, crumpled and inky with the number of times he had changed it, but still just legible enough to produce in front of the class. His hands were shaking, but he didn’t notice.

He was too busy attempting to re-write the speech for the fifth time.

“’Lexi, if you don’t stop changing it, it’s gonna be completely different by the time you go to say it.” Peggy chuckled as they walked, patting her friend on the shoulder, making the smaller boy jump. Alex’s notecards fluttered to the floor as his wide eyes flicked up to the Schuyler sister as if he didn’t quite know who she was for a moment.

He shook his head as if clearing his thoughts.

“S- Sorry, just…” He trailed off, kneeling down to pick up the cards alongside Peggy. “Thought you were… Someone else.”

Peggy only gave a small, pitiful tut as they began walking again.

“It is okay, ‘Lexi. You’re stressed, yeah? Take a deep breath, and ‘Defeat the shit out of Thomas’, as Laf would say!” She smiled, clasping her chest with a look of hope and pride in her chocolatey eyes. Alexander shrunk back.

“Defeat the… Yeah, sure, whatever.” He sighed, rubbing his temples.

He almost jumped out of his skin when something small was pressed against his upper arm, but he looked up to find Peggy holding a small piece of chocolate out for him.

“Eat. It’ll make you feel better.” She smiled softly.

“Not hungry.” Alex’s stomach churned as he shuffled through his notecards, putting them back in order.

“Eat.” She said, sterner than before. Alex glanced up at the girl for only a moment, before quietly taking the candy and mumbling his thanks, biting off the edge of it.

Peggy nodded, patting Alex twice on the head, earning a small smile, and bounced off down the hall to her class. He missed her already.

Alex gave a small sigh and shuffled into the crowded, noisy class. He didn’t bother looking up as he entered; simply stared at his feet as he made his way across the room.

He wished Laf was there – the poor boy had been in the nurse's office since this morning’s… quarrel – and it didn’t help that, without John – Eliza said he hurt himself that morning, which, when she wouldn’t tell him what had happened, only stressed Alex out more – Alex was alone with Jeffershit, Lee, Burr and Madison.

_At least it isn’t King_ , he thought with a scowl.

He only looked up when he ran straight into someone’s back.

Alex fell to the ground with a small grunt, notecards leaving his grip once again and fluttering around him like snow.

A disgusted noise echoed from above his head.

_Of course it was Thomas Jefferson – why wouldn’t it be **fucking** Thomas Jefferson._

“What the- Oh, _ew_ , a gremlin.” The Virginian snickered, slapping James’ chest with the back of his hand and turning to stare at Hamilton belittlingly. Madison turned, gave a disinterested shrug, and shuffled off, much like a man politely leaving an awkward situation.

Jefferson only smiled after getting a response – a smirk – out of Lee.

Alex only shook his head quietly, compiling his cards into a stack and getting up, cradling them in his arms.

“I swear to god, Jefferson, I’ll throw my fucking chair at you.” Alex snarled, rubbing a hand over his tired face and slumping into his seat, utterly defeated as he stared at the small white cards that littered his desk.

“Oh ho?” Thomas chuckled darkly, hopping over a chair to lean on Hamilton’s desk towering over the smaller boy. Alex shrunk back, but a small voice inside him screamed at him to hold his ground.

_Don’t give him the satisfaction… Remember what he did to Laf?_

“Leave me alone, Jeffershit.” Alex sighed, beginning to pick out the cards in number-order once again. “I’m not in the mood.”

Charles snickered cruelly, slapped Hamilton painfully on the back, and pulled Thomas away to talk to Mr. Adams about something or another – probably asking how much it was to let Thomas win this debate. Alex deflated at the thought.

He didn’t see James come up behind him – he assumed he’d gone with his awful friends – and jumped when the broader boy placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. He held his hands defensively in front of him when Alex whipped around – almost like he hadn’t expected such a response – but nodded slightly when the smaller boy regained his composure.

“I heard you rehearsing your speech with Herc, and… Uh… Look, Thomas’ is _nowhere_ near as good as yours. Just… Thought you should know. I don’t know what you think he’s up too, but…” He glanced at Thomas and Lee, who were still harboring disgustingly sweet smiles as they spoke with the teacher. “You’ve got this one.”

Alex stared at him blankly. James sighed, trying another tactic.

“Heard they… Battered you up pretty bad, huh?” Alex didn’t reply. James rubbed the back of his neck nervously. “I’m… I’m sorry I wasn’t there. I would’ve stopped ‘em, I promise. That… That wasn’t cool.”

Alex sighed. “What do you want, James?”

James did a double take, surprised to hear his first name come from Hamilton’s mouth. _At least it wasn’t profanity_. “Laf’ll be back at lunch – the nurse told me. Just… Thought you should know.”

James began to walk away, hands in his pockets and head low when Hamilton’s voice stopped him.

“Thanks.” Alex’s gaze was fixed to his desk, and James could only assume he was talking to him.

He blinked in surprise.

The larger teen hesitated for a moment before a small smile tugged at his lips. “You’re welcome, Alexander.”

And with that, he re-joined his friends silently. Neither Thomas, nor Charles noticed that he had even been missing, and Alex felt bad for the poor boy. James sneezed. Thomas handed him a Kleenex without hesitation.

Alex scoffed.

By the time the bell had rung, Alex had his speech memorized. Burr had come to class, his letterman missing from this morning – probably resting on Theodosia Prevost’s person, wherever she was – and Charles hadn’t stopped whispering to Thomas, glancing at Alex.

Mr. Adams stood heavily and waddled to the front of the class, looking through his papers over his half-moon spectacles, muttering names under his breath.

“Alright, I know you’re all very excited,” No-one but Alexander was excited. “I think we should get right to it – I have a meeting to get to in a bit, so… Let’s see… Thomas and… Alexander!” Mr. Adams plopped back into his large computer-chair, surveying the class as if he’d forgotten the two foils in the class.

Alexander’s hands shook as he walked to the podium, but Thomas seemed to just glide right up to the front. _No notecards_ , Alex took a deep breath in, but forgot to let it back out.

“You can start.” As soon as the words exited Mr. Adams’ mouth, the phone rang. The large man plodded over, his balding head shining in the light, and picked it up, mumbling into the receiver.

He hung up and took a deep breath, his mouth going a million miles an hour. “I’ll be back! I wasn’t told that meeting got changed – I’ll run down there and get everything sorted out. Any complaints from surrounding teachers and you’ll be doing bookwork for a week.” And with that, he jogged off; his large, round body making his steps heavy and his breathing sound like panting.

Alex would be shocked that the man would leave a group of hormonal 17-year-olds to their own devices if he hadn’t already spent almost an entire semester with this man.

“Yeah, that guy hasn’t ‘Run’ anywhere since eighth grade.” Thomas snickered quietly, resting on the podium to smirk at his friends.

A chatter broke out over the class, but Alex and Thomas remained at the front of the class. The smaller teen tried to look busy - anything to avoid the wrath of the boys in the front seats - but Lee seemed to see right through him.

“So what’s your speech on, short-stop?” Lee leaned back in his chair, arms crossed as he smirked at Alex.

“Uh…” Alex’s voice shook, still on an adrenaline high from having all eyes on him. He glanced at Thomas. “Injustice in the legal system and treatment of those with soul-bonds in relation to marriages, divorces, etc.”

Lee snorted. “How’d you go about writing that without one?”

Alex froze; automatically spewing, “I have a soulmate.”

Lee scoffed, leaning forward and narrowing his eyes. “Who’d want _you_?”

Alex felt his blood boil. “Plenty of people!” _Stand your ground, stand your ground, stand your-_

Both Thomas and Lee burst out laughing, and Alex almost cried – half from frustration, half from being teased.

“Like who?!” Lee barked back maliciously.

Alex balled his hands up. “More people than you would have, _dipshit_.”

Lee snarled. “I’ve got Sammy. _You’ve_ _got no-one_.”

“Seabury is _barely_ your soulmate, Lee, you’d have the same fucking relationship with a wet mop!” Alex bit back, knuckles white with how hard he was gripping the sides of the podium.

Lee’s expression changed, and Alex didn’t know whether to be happy or scared that he’d hit such a nerve.

“Fuck you!” Charles spat back, leaping to his feet and narrowing his eyes at the Caribbean teen, fuming. “Sam’s my soulmate and I’ll treat him how I like, you fucking illegal! Why don’t you just run back to Mexico with your mother?! Oh that’s right; you fucking _can’t_!”

Alex didn’t doubt that all the classrooms around them heard him, but he didn’t care – he matched Lee's volume without hesitance.

“My mother loved me you _son of a bitch_ , and so do the Washington’s! I have so many people in this world who would do _anything_ for me – I would never take them for granted like you do. Is Sam even allowed to call you Charles? Or do you make him call you Lee like some obedient fucking lap dog?!” He snarled back, unsure whether he was raising his voice more to hear over his pounding heartbeat or just to intimidate Lee. Neither was working.

“Oh, and you treat your soulmate so much better?! What do you two talk about, huh?! What do write to her about, Alexander? You’re pathetic fucking life?! Do you even have room between those fucking scars on your arm?!”

Everything stopped.

His throbbing head, the unbridled rage he felt, the burning sensation that spread through him like wildfire.

It all stopped.

Alexander stared at him in shocked silence for a long while.

“I- I… What?” His voice was suddenly small - empty even. _They couldn’t know, could they?! He had been so careful not to let anyone see, how did Lee know?!_

Everyone in the room shifted slightly. _They knew, how the fuck did they all know?_

“Seabury…” Burr’s tone had an edge to it that Alexander had never heard him use before. Alexander tugged his sleeves down and felt tears begin to burn in his eyes. Seabury gave a dirty smirk, yanked his arm away from Burr’s grip, and sauntered to the front of the class.

All eyes were plastered to the two of them, and even Thomas stepped to stand by the door to watch, smirking. He put a hand on Burr’s shoulder when he tried to stand, and Alex’s heart sank.

Whatever Seabury was going for, it was really working. Alex’s heart dropped to his toes and anxiety filled the empty space that had once housed anger. _He suddenly felt so alone…_

“Show us your markings then.” Lee smiled sickeningly, crossing his arms.

Alex felt sick. He wanted to glance around, but he couldn’t break his gaze away from Lee’s sparkling, evil eyes. His hands were numb, wadded tightly around the ends of his sleeves, and his throat was so dry that he felt like every time he swallowed he incriminated himself.

“W- What?”

“Go on, Lexi.” He snarled, malice dripping into his tone as he took a threatening step towards Alex. “ _Show us what she says_.”

“N- No!” Lee took a step forward, and Alex shuffled back, running straight into the whiteboard, his breathing hitch as he realized he was slowly being cornered. “That doesn’t... That won’t prove anything!”

“Samuel…” James rose in his chair, watching his friend very carefully as if ready to intervene at a moment’s notice. Alex’s gaze flicked to Jefferson for a moment – half-expecting him to be giving James a look, telling him to shut up and sit down – but all he found was an evil smirk and a malicious glare as if this whole situation amused him in some twisted way.

“What’re you hiding, ‘Lexi?” Charles taunted lowly, smirking as Hamilton began to panic at how sickeningly close they were to one-another. Charles slowly dragged the back of his hand down the Caribbean boy’s cheek, and Alexander tensed, turning his head to one side. Tears burned in his eyes, bile rose in his throat…

Before Alexander could stop him, Samuel grabbed his wrist and tugged down his sleeve.

A dozen, maybe more, scars in neat, perfect pink, white, and red rows, were showcased to the class.

A gasp spread out among them, Alex turned his head away, tears streaking down his face as he scrunched his eyes shut, weakly attempting to rip his arm from Charles’ grip.

He glanced around for a moment but felt his heart freeze as his gaze met Jefferson’s.

The taller teen had taken a step forward from leaning on the wall as if he was restraining himself from running forward and prying Lee off.

But his face… He looked like he’d just seen a ghost; he looked so shocked.

A tear slipped down his face as Alex’s eyes met his.

Alex felt sick. He couldn't tell why, but he didn't want to look away.

“People like you are _disgusting_.” Charles’ quiet snarl barely reached Alex’s ears, dragging his attention away from Jefferson.

Alexander felt new tears pour down his face as he met Charles’ gaze, and ripped his arm free, his breathing starting to restrict. He glanced around the room one last time before heaving a sob and bolting from the room.

“What a fucking _prick_.” One girl in the back mumbled, looking straight at Charles as she spoke.

“Yeah, dude, that was fucking awful.” That one came from a boy in the front, who shook his head, looking around at Thomas, Charles, Burr and Madison.

James scowled, standing slowly and angrily stalking to take Charles’ arm in a tight grip – much like an embarrassed mother. Bur slowly ushered Thomas out, casting frantic glances at the whispering class as they went.

Burr shut the door slowly once they were out in the empty hall, and James tried his hardest not to explode.

“ _What the **fuck** , Charles_.” He growled. Burr rested a hesitant hand on his friend's shoulder to keep Madison from strangling the boy in front of him, but James didn’t look up.

Charles broke into a grin, practically cackling as he doubled-over, laughing his ass off.

“Did you see the look on his face, though?! I made him fucking _cry_!” He snorted, leaning against the wall as his knees went weak with happiness. He looked like a child on Christmas. Aaron felt sick.

“ _Yeah, literally everyone saw_. What the fuck is wrong with you?! I know you think you’re above the law-” He prodded Lee in the chest with a finger, and Charles’ laughter died down, “But there’s a fucking line. You crossed it.”

Lee wiped his eyes and scoffed. “Oh, piss off, Madison; you’re only mad because the whole class was looking at you. That bitch deserved it.” He turned to Thomas sourly. “Whatta you thi- Woah, what’s up with you?”

When James turned to see what Charles was taken aback by, he found Thomas, with tears dripping down his face, and his glassy eyes were fixed to a spot on the ground. He was turned away from the group slightly, one hand on the wall as if steadying him and one hand on his mouth like he felt sick.

James immediately let the issue of Charles fall.

“Woah shit, Thomas… You alright, man?” He asked quietly, shrugging Burr’s hand off his shoulder as he hesitantly went to stand by Thomas.

“I can’t… I don’t…” More tears poured down his face as he tried to explain, his thoughts intrusive, black and unwanted. Whatever was going through Thomas’ head right now, James knew it was a lot.

“Oh, don’t tell me you’re just as upset?!” Lee snarled, taking a step forward. “You were the one making him bleed this morning.”

Thomas waved him and Aaron off, taking a breath that sounded like he was trying to keep bile down.

James subtly turned to his friends and shook his head gently, careful to not let Jefferson see and upset him more. An angry, confused snarl coated Lee’s features, but Burr was quick to usher the boy back into class with only a glance over his shoulder and a small nod to indicate that he’d seen James’ sign.

_“What’s up with Jefferson?”_

James winced as Lee’s voice echoed through the empty hall, but the door clicked closed before they could hear Burr’s reply.

They were alone.

Thomas turned to face James before James could even say a word, and, choking back a sob, lifted his sleeve slowly.

Pink, white, and red lines; all in neat rows, covered his arms. They weren't as raised as the ones on Hamilton’s arm, but that didn’t make James feel any less nauseous.

Thomas gave him a pleading look through his tears when James looked up to face him with a terror-struck, worried look. Gently, James took his battered arm, eyeing it up and down as tears began to prick in his eyes.

“Thomas…” His voice was barely a whisper – hoarse and on the verge of tearful. “Why would you do this; I don't-”

Thomas pulled his arm away, sniffling, and pulled his sleeve down. He crossed his arms protectively over his chest and took a step away from James, who looked heartbroken.

He sniffled again, screwing his eyes shut.

“They… I- I didn’t… They aren’t mine.”

James grew very confused. “…Y- Your soulmate? Tommy, _you don’t have one!_ What the fuck is going on?!”

Thomas was silent for a moment.

“They match Hamilton’s.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HANNAH;S NOT DEAD HOLY SHIT


	11. Jefferson Will Pay For His Behavior

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two ways to approach one situation.

The bathroom was quiet when Thomas pushed the door open.

An air conditioning unit sent a buzzing noise out over the cold, light-blue-tiled bathroom. The room was cold and sterile, and the constant sound of water dripping from the rusty, foul-smelling tap blinked through the room. The mirrors above the two sinks were cracked and faded, with large brown spots behind the glass.

The only human sound was Thomas’ breathing, panting from running up two staircases and eight hallways after the smaller boy.

At first, his heart skipped a beat, his feet ready to push him from the room as soon as the idea of Alexander not being in there filled his mind. Perhaps he ran home already, unwilling to face another minute in the same building as Thomas; maybe he’d scampered off to some closet, or run to find Laf – wherever he may be.

Thomas turned on his heels, hand sweeping to open the door and curls bouncing with his body’s movements; but froze in place immediately as a small whimper broke through the silence.

Thomas’ heart caught in his throat, and his arm seemed to burn with the knowledge of what was going on.

Alex’s mind ran with thoughts of who had entered the bathroom. His first thought was Charles or Burr, and he felt his breathing picke up. Words swam in his mind; sentences wouldn’t click, letters wouldn’t join. His eyes welled with tears as his head pounded; his hands clamped over his ears and entangled in his knotted hair, his back propped up against the leg of the bathroom stall.

The door clicked closed, but nothing else was heard – whoever was inside was just waiting.

His head pounded with memories of his father; bursting into his room with no warning on the nights when his mother worked late – holding that god-awful stick with a mind full of alcohol and a mouth full of slurs.

His hands clasped tighter around his head, and he sobbed into his palm, the sound of posh shoes grating against cold tiles were heard.

They waited outside the door for a moment, and after a moment of Alex choking on his own sobs, the door jiggled, knocking loudly against the stand.

A sigh followed a moment after, and Alex’s head hurt with how tightly he was pressing his hands into his ears. The jiggling stopped.

Alexander felt cornered.

“Hamilton?” Jefferson’s voice filled the room, bouncing off the gritty, disgusting walls. “Open the door, please.”

Alex scooted away from the door, backing himself between the toilet and the wall, and felt bile rise in his stomach as his breathing picked up. He cracked his eyes open just enough to catch expensive, polished brown shoes under the door.

“Ugh, can you even fucking hear me in there?!” Jefferson slapped his palm against the door, and Hamilton sobbed harder.

“Fu- ck- F- uc- k… G- Of- f.” The words were garbled and made no sense, but at least he got them out.

“Good, okay, it’s you. Open the door.” His voice was steely and commanding, and Alexander didn’t like it one bit.

“C- C- Ca- n’t.” He sounded like he was about to throw up, and whatever façade Jefferson was putting up fell.

“You can’t? Can you stand at all?” His voice was softer this time, and Alexander let his shoulders relax, letting his head fall against the cold tiles behind him.

“Wh- What- ta y- ou thin- thin- k.”

Another sigh sounded.

And then something rammed against the door, making it shudder like a gunshot, causing Alexander to whimper and curl farther from the door. Jefferson sounded _pissed._

The door finally burst open, and Jefferson gasped, pausing in the doorway at the sight.

Alexander, with tears streaming down his face – every limb tucked into a ball… Jefferson didn’t like how small and scared he looked; Thomas didn’t know the last time he’d seen this scared or tiny.

“Ta- Take one more f- f- fuck- ing step to- towards m- e an- d I’ll sha- shatter your knee- cap- s.” His voice was shaky, and the sight made Jefferson sick to his stomach. He looked the smaller boy up and down, before stepping into the stall and locking the door; sliding to the floor against the leg of the stall.

Alex glanced up, and Jefferson was quick to pull up his sleeve while he had the smaller boy’s attention.

Alex’s sniffled came to an abrupt stop as his eyes rested harshly on Thomas’ arm.

A deafening pause swept through the bathroom, and Thomas could do nothing but feel every emotion he’d ever experienced well inside his chest.

He could see the cogs in Alex’ brain turning, unable to wrap his head around the sight before him.

“You… You… Y- Your arm…” His voice is soft and breathy, but Jefferson feels his mind melt a little at the sound of it. “What did you…”

“Count them.”

“Wh- Wha-”

“Count them. Count yours.”

Alex could barely pry his eyes away from Jefferson’s wrist to gently pull back his own, revealing the same scars.

“Fif… Fifteen.”

Jefferson nodded quietly, rolling his sleeves back down and staring at the ground.

“If I’d have known any of this, I promise, I would’ve stopped him, I’m sorry-”

“What kind of sick fucking joke is this?!” Alexander barely registered the unbridled rage in his voice, but Thomas froze unnaturally at it.

“I don’t… Are we… They match my… You can’t be-”

Jefferson leant down and pushed his forearm next to Alex’s, pulling the sleeves up again. Alex’s skin was soft against his own, and Jefferson gave a twitch of his lip at the realization that they were touching.

Rage cut through Alex’s bones like a knife, slashing at his heart and burning his brain so harshly he didn’t even realize he was on his feet until Jefferson placed a hand on his shoe.

“W- We’re soulmates…” His voice was quiet, and he seemed to stare at nothing, giving a nervous, breathy laugh that sounded maddened. “What the fuck?! What the _actual_ fuck, Jefferson?!”

Thomas had no words.

“I- I-”

“ _You’re my soulmate?!_ What?! How the fuck could you think it’s okay to _walk in here_ and just _fucking say that shit_ -” Jefferson stood up, easily looming over Hamilton, but Alexander’s rage didn’t stop. “ _Do you know what you’ve done to me_?! Who the _fuck_ do you think you are-“

“Alex, listen please, fuck – I know you’re angry, but-” Hamilton’s fist connected with Thomas’ jaw before he could even get the sentence out. His forehead was knocked against the wall, but his mind only went as far as to register that Alexander was sobbing by now, a furious, nauseous look plastered to his face.

Thomas was glad Alexander wasn’t much of a fighter. He really had a great right-hook.

“Fuck you, Jefferson. Just… _Fuck you!_ And if I _ever_ see you again, it’ll be _too damn soon_. Stay away from me.”

Jefferson could practically feel Alexander’s anger as the smaller boy shoved past him, unlocking the stall with shaking hands and storming out, sobbing loudly.

James ran in just in time to find Thomas – bloody-nosed and all – crouched on the floor, sobbing into his palms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oops?


	12. You Have Ruined Our Lives

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alexander has a rough time.

Hamilton’s hands were shaking as he stood outside the debate classroom. His mouth dried and his throat burned at the thought of actually going inside, but going back to the bathroom wasn’t an option – not with Jefferson still in there. The hallway was empty, but his head still rattled with thoughts that wouldn’t conjoin. Words blurred, and he was even surprised he had made it to class; the signs on the way all swimming and falling in front of his eyes.

When the bell finally rang, his stomach dropped. Tears dripped down his face, sobs ripped his vocal chords, and his body begged to just give up and fall to the floor in a trembling, limp heap.

Charles was the first one out, pulled along by Burr fast enough to completely miss Alexander. Alex hated that they were both rushing towards the bathrooms he’d just come from. Lee ran passed him a moment later, coming from another class near-by with a worried look plastered to his features; a phone in his hand, indicating that James had probably texted them all what happened.

Laf rushed from the classroom in the stream of students running towards the cafeteria, shoving his way between a multitude of people to reach Alexander, a sickeningly-worried look plastered to his face, only making Alexander feel worse.

“Alex!” Laf placed his hand on Alex’s shoulder, and Alex practically jumped back, his hands shaking wildly as he tried to push Laf away. “What happened?! You must speak, please, I cannot… James told me you ran off and I… Jesus, Alex, please, tell to me! What has happened?!”

Alex sucked in a harsh breath, suddenly aware of the stares he was receiving from his passing classmates in the hall.

“H- H- H- o- ome.” Was all he managed to choke out, his throat thick with sobs as a senior passed the two of them, looking Alexander up and down, meeting his eyes for just long enough to make him break.

Laf glanced behind him, looking the senior up dangerously, moving in front of his smaller friend to shield him from the stares.

“You… You are wishing to send home?”

“P- Pl- Pleas- e… H- Hom- Home.”

“I shall call your father?”

“No- Not h- home.” Alexander’s brain didn’t even register that Laf had called George his father until the subject was changed.

“You want for me to drive you?”

“Pl- Please?”

Laf nodded slowly, opening the side of his jacket slightly to let Alexander snuggle up to his side; wrapping the fabric around his smaller friend and leading him out to the parking lot. Snow was falling from the dark-grey sky, but Alexander couldn’t even register the cold over his hot, _hot_ body.

Laf didn’t leave once they’d made it home, either; determined to stay by Alexander’s side while Martha and George were at work. Alex couldn’t protest, though. Deep down, it really hurt that his parents weren’t home, but he’d never mention anything if it meant implying that the Washington’s didn’t do enough for him already.

“Are you… Going to sleep or… Eat?” Laf asked quietly, turning on all the lamps in the house rather than the harsh overhead lights; lighting the fireplace and all the candles Martha had lying around to make the home seem calm.

“Not hungry.” He mumbled, pulling his coat off and throwing it on the couch, flinching as Ragman burst through the house, barking and growling loud enough to shake Alex’s thoughts. Laf immediately grabbed the dog by the collar, pulling him into Martha and George’s room and shutting the door on him before turning back to his shaking friend.

“Are you complete happy?”

Alexander sighed. “You’re anxious, your English is… Look, just- Don’t worry about me, okay?”

“I meant to speak are you… Sure?”

Alex sighed, sniffling and wallowing in the feeling of his head hurting. He deserved it.

“No, actually.” He sighed, stumbling uncoordinatedly towards the bathroom – so ungraciously that Laf had to duck to catch him twice in his trek to the hall. “Something warm, please?”

“Like, uh… Ma-croni?”

“Yeah, macaroni is fine, thanks.” Alexander huffed a sigh, shuffling his way to the bathroom on weak, shaky legs – locking the door as the sound of Laf lighting the stove filled the apartment.

Pulling up his sleeves for the first time since Jefferson had touched him, he gave a shaky breath.

As he stared at his scars, it was almost like he felt something inside him snap; tears suddenly falling freely down his cheeks; hot and salty, slathering his face as he sank to the floor, knees weak and throat burning.

Alex’s skin burned.

“I have a soulmate.” His mouth felt sweet around the word, but it made his stomach churn. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck-”

Thoughts of Jefferson filled his mind; his hair, that smirk, his _eyes_ …

Alex’s skin and mind burned.

Alexander had heard from people with soulmate’s – including Laf and Herc – that when you think of your soulmate, your heart feels all… _Fuzzy?_

Alex’s skin and mind and heart burned.

Self-loathing overthrew his mind – rattling around and pulling at his brain, forcing it to ache. He stood on shaky legs to stand over the sink, arms heavy as he pulled his sleeves down just slightly, his fingers twitching as he stared at the drawer where his razor’s sat in a neat box.

He was supposed to be _happy_. After years of not having a soulmate – being alone in this cold, dark, connected world – he got one.

He had one and he found his. Some people weren’t that lucky. _Up until two hours ago, he was one of those people._

And yet, he couldn’t feel anything.

Alex’s cuts and skin and mind and heart burned.

The scars on his arms and thighs and stomach were because of Jefferson. He fucked himself up for the one person in life he was supposed to be with forever.

A knock on the doorframe made Alex jump, raising his attention from where he stared at a spot on the counter – completely zoned out. Laf stood tall in the doorway, holding a bowl of steaming noodles; light pouring into the dark bathroom from the kitchen behind him.

“Alex? Are… Are you okay?”

Alex swallowed a harsh reply.

“The hell do you think, Lafayette?” His voice cracked disgustingly as he spat the words, and Laf flinched slightly, but Hamilton couldn’t have cared less.

“I… I know I should not say I know what you are going through, but…” The Frenchman breathed a small, blissful sigh. “So what if it is Jefferson?”

Only then did Alex’s watery gaze meet Laf’s, his chest tightening at the words. _It’s your fault_ – Alex tried so hard not to catch the tone in Laf’s voice – _Alex, it’s not that big of a deal_ – but it was so distressing – _you’re being a fucking baby_ – that he couldn’t help but let a few more hot tears slip – _let it go, run to Thomas, and let him hurt you_.

“…I- I’m sorry?!”

“Well, I just mean that… it is just Jefferson. He… Really is not that bad.” Laf’s tone was sincere, but a horrible ringing set out over Hamilton’s ears before he could catch what the other teen actually said.

Alex’s entire body; his mind; his soul… Burned.

Burned worse than the memories of his mother, burned worse than midnight wet dreams of John, burned worse than his skin did under his knife.

**_Burned._ **

It took quite a few strained heartbeats for Hamilton to gather the courage to say anything in return. Laf sensed something was up immediately, his head spinning to try and rethink how to fix whatever mess he’d made with his simple words – but Alex was already speaking before Laf could even begin to think.

“Laf how long have I lived here?” Alexander could feel whatever calmness he had slipping through his fingers.

Laf stared at him in silence for a moment before answering.

“…A- Almost two months, non?”

Alex swallowed heavily, knuckles white as he gripped the countertop.

“Have…” Alex sniffed unnaturally. “Have I showed you my scars?”

Laf grew confused, eyebrows knitting together and stomach twisting at the idea of what the word ‘scars’ related to.

“You… Have not, I believe? What… What scars, _Alexandre_?”

Hamilton sighed heavily, knowing he couldn’t back up now, and laughed darkly, turning away from Laf to blink back shaky tears.

Slowly – slower then Alex had ever done anything – his long-sleeved shirt was shed, showing dozens of scars on his arms and stomach and back to the boy standing behind him.

It took Laf a minute to process what he was seeing before his eyes widened like he was staring at a dead body, and the food dropped from his grip. Immediately, he rushed over to stand at Alex’s side, muttering _‘Holy shit’_ and _‘Jesus, Alex’_ over and over in French; his hands hovering over Alex’s skin – not touching it in the slightest, his worried brown eyes scanning the scars as fast as possible.

“ _Fils de pute! Merde, Alexandre_ , you… Holy shit… You did this to _yourself_ …?!” Laf sounded like he was going to cry, but Alex willed himself not to react.

“Obviously.” There’s no emotion behind his words, and Laf felt like throwing up. “Some days are better than others but… It hasn’t exactly been an easy two months…”

“Are… _Merde_ , are these… are these because of…”

Alex cracked a small smile at Laf’s attempt to put two and two together, but there was nothing to find funny.

“Jefferson? You should’ve heard him last debate. ‘Wanna run back to your mommy and cry, Hamilton?” Alex gave a mock gasp. “’Oh wait’!” He snarled bitterly at the memory as Laf ran his fingers gently along his scarred side. Red, pink, and white scars were raised under his fingertips, and Alex shuddered ungracefully at the touch.

“ _Alexandre_ , Jesus, fuck… How… When did you… Why didn’t you call me? Why didn’t you text Herc or talk to John?!”

“I can deal with this shit by myself, Laf.” Sudden anger arose, and Alexander pulled harshly away from his friend’s soft touch.

 “Look at this shit!” Laf pulled Alex’s arm forward, showing Alex the damage as if he’d never seen his own arm before, but Alexander only ripped it away. “Obviously you can’t!”

Alex only stared at him incredulously for a moment, before taking a step back.

“You know what, _Gilbert_ ,” Laf flinched, and a wave of sadness and terror washed over his face.

This wasn’t Alex; Alex was shy and caring – albeit, a bit of a hot-headed loud-mouth – but _this_ … This wasn’t Alexander. This was how he _felt_.

This was all of the pain, the sorrow, the deep dark thoughts that accompanied losing his mother and his cousin and watching his town get destroyed.

Laf felt panic restrict his chest heavily at the realization that this was 17 years of self-hate unfurling before him.

Alexander was fuming.

“Fuck you, alright?! I’ve already had a shit day, and you’re just as bad as Jefferson! How could you even begin to sympathize with someone like that-“

“He isn’t really like that, Alex, you know this! He only says this to get under your skin-“

“ _Isn’t really like that_?!” Alex snarled. “ _He **isn’t really like that**?!_ Have you heard half of the shit he says?! I refuse to believe shit like that just ‘slips out’ considering how many times he’s mentioned my mother, or my scars or my shit-loads of medications because, let’s face it, I’m the most fucked up piece of shit you’re ever going to meet, so yeah; maybe he isn’t like that to you, but he’s a douchebag who happens to be the reason I have razors in my side-drawers!”

Lafayette looked so scared – Alex was obviously saying shit he’d obviously never said to anyone before, and now as it all came out, Alex was crying he was so angry; slowly getting closer and forcing Laf backwards, until eventually Laf was outside the bathroom door, careful not to trip over his spilled food from earlier.

“Alexandre, listen, please, I did not mean-“

“Get out.” Alexander growled lowly, his eyes glued to a spot on the floor as he stood in the doorway, an animalistic shadow cast across his face as Laf began to slowly put his defensively-raised hands down.

“W- What?” Laf’s brow furrowed in terrified sadness, but the snarl across Alex’s face only deepened.

“I said, _get out!” _ And the door to the bathroom was slammed shut.

Laf didn’t move for several seconds, simply staring at the door in shock before shoveling the food from earlier into the bowl and walking to the kitchen in silence.

The sound of water rushing was heard soon after, and somewhere, Thomas Jefferson was watching the scars on his wrist get torn open again like moving tattoos, knowing that his soulmate was somewhere, dragging razors over dried blood and pain-filled memories.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oof the next chapter is nice


	13. We'll Make The World Safe And Sound For You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Washington's just want their child to be safe.

It was late when Martha and George got home. Styrofoam Chinese-takeout boxes squeaked in George’s grip; his mind full of how late it is and how long Alex had been home alone as he entered the dark apartment.

“You think he’s eaten?” George’s voice was quiet; his eyes plastered to Alex’s door as he spoke, opening the door to his room to let Ragman out.

Martha glanced at the clock, and shook her head. “Lafayette texted me earlier… He made some noodles but…”

Martha glanced over the counter, eyes landing on the cold bowl of ramen left there. “I don’t think he ate it,”

George pursed his lips, and set the food on the counter, nodding.

“Well, then… I’ll go let the dog out and you can-”

“I think…” Martha interrupted, grabbing the leash from the coat-rack before George could. “I think _you_ should give it to him.”

George stared at her for a moment before scoffing. “Me? Why?”

“Because anyone could let the dog out. I’m the only one who Alex trusts in this house. Don’t you want to change that?”

George stared at the container in his hand, sighing dejectedly. “What if he’s asleep? And he wakes up while I’m in there – Martha-”

“No, George. The only way he’s going to learn to trust you is if you do these types of things.” Martha sighed, hooking Ragman’s leash up and putting on a warm, light-blue and pink wool hat. “If he wakes up, back-peddle. You’re just giving him food. Show him you’re not going to hurt him.”

“But-”

“I’ll be back.” The door closed, and George was left alone in his apartment as a cold gust of air filled the living room, sending snowflakes onto the carpet and freezing George’s bones.

Slowly, and with all the mental strength he could manage, he started towards Alex’s room.

George Washington; a man who’d seen friend blown to pieces in war, a man who’d led regiments to their demise when they trusted him so dearly, a man whose very own brother got shot in the head several feet from him…

Was having trouble walking into his son’s room.

Alex was asleep with the light on when George walked in; body entangled around a pillow, eyes scrunched in some nightmare.

George had learnt to tell when Alex had fallen asleep sobbing. He heaved a sigh.

The first couple days that Alexander was at the Washington’s, they’d made sure he was okay by peeking in when he was asleep – most nights they were met with the brown-haired teen, curled into a ball, with red, shining cheeks accompanied by shaking and sometimes random kicks and whimpers at something that wasn’t there. Martha never wanted to ask who he was kicking at, and Alex never told her.

George smiled slightly at the snoring boy under the covers, tucking him in ever-so-slightly and moving strands of his son’s hair out of his mouth and off his tear-sticky cheeks. Setting the food on the table by Alex’s bed – the one with the lamp – and gently slid the drawer open.

Feeling around for a moment for a sticky-note to put on the container to tell Alex to heat it up when he wakes, his fingers grazed

But something incredibly sharp caught his fingertip, and before he could even feel the pain, a large drop of blood poured from his nail. Immediately, he retracted his hand; taking the tip of his finger in his mouth and stepping away from the table in confusion.

Slowly, his eyes glancing quickly between Alex and the drawer, he pulled the drawer open.

A heart-shattering noise was uttered from the father’s throat, and a hand was clapped over his mouth as he took a stumbling step back.

Two, small razors glittered in the light from above them, sharp sides glinting with flecks of red, crusty blood on their piercing edges.

George’s stomach churned as he gently reached in and picked them up, placing them gently in the palm of his hand and staring at them with a racing mind and pounding heart. Where had Alex gotten these? Had he bought them? Was that _blood_?

More importantly; what did he use them for?

Washington’s mouth tasted like vomit.

Ever-so-gently, George leant over the small boy, moving his tan, boysenberry-colored-sweatshirt-covered arm above the covers, carefully pulling shuffling the sweater-sleeve down without waking him.

And there they were.

Red, angry, raised lines slashed through his son’s skin; some, crossing over white or pink ones that seemed to be somewhat-healed already. Most of them were horizontal, but some seemed to be done less-neatly – like he was in a hurry when they’d been done. Some ran up and down – and George’s heart skipped at least two beats at the realization that those scars looked like they needed stitches at the time that they’d been done.

Hot tears poured down his face before he could stop himself, but his eyes never left Alex’s arm.

The door shut quietly in the front room, and dog panting was heard as well as Martha’s gentle calls, but George couldn’t hear anything over his heartbeat.

_This was his son. This was his child. Good fucking Lord; this boy was hurting and broken and tearing himself to pieces and George could’ve prevented it and good God where is his breathing and his pulse was too loud and-_

“George?” Martha’s all-too-sweet tone bounced through his skull; his stomach churning as he slowly left the room, meeting Martha in the hall.

“Martha.” He said, much too slowly, taking his wife’s hands in his as he looked her dead in the eye. “I need you to listen to me.”

“George, what’s… Are you crying?” Her face contorted sourly, but suddenly, her eyes widened. “Is it Alex?”

Her low voice sent shivers down George’s spine.

George opened his mouth for a moment, hands still in his wife’s as her gaze flicked between him and the door to Alex’s room, and before George could even find the words to describe what he had seen – Martha was off towards Alex’s room like a bullet.

Before he could stop her, and despite his whispers – as not to wake Alex – of protest, she pulled open the door, and stopped at the sight. Her hand first flew to her mouth to hide a sob, then to clutch her chest as she slowly shuffled towards her son.

One glance to the razors on the bedside table was all she needed to wrap her arms around George, crying into his shirt.

“Who did this?!” Her whisper was like knives in George’s back.

“I think…” George’s voice broke as he took Martha’s hand, leading her from the room and clicking the light off as he did so.  “I think _he_ did.”

Within the hour, five more razors were found – the bathroom, Alex’s backpack, his shoe, below the scale in the kitchen – as well as a pocket knife in his jeans; and all knives and sharp objects within the Washington’s house were thrown in the garbage, which George immediately drove straight to the dump a few miles away.

3 AM rolled around before Alex would’ve liked, and his brain kicked into life before he could even shake his nightmares of someone touching him. The hands had felt so real, like… Someone was _here_ … Alex reached gently into his drawer-

To find nothing there.

His half-awake mind felt around with band aid-covered fingers to see if he could find his sharp, feeling-numb-er, but, to his frustration, nothing was found. After a groan and the squeeze of his eyes, Alex rolled over lazily. The drawer was open.

Alex never left the drawer open.

The light was off.

Alex never turned the light off; slept with it on just in case someone came into the room and snaked a hand up his leg and over his mouth with the cover of darkness.

Something was wrong.

**_Where were his razors?_ **

“Don’t say that!” Shouts echoed down the hall, and Alex sat up in his bed, rubbing his eyes quickly and reaching for his phone to turn on the flashlight – making sure that no one was in his room and that he was safe. “He’s not… George, stop it!”

Alex’s first thought was a fight.

A fight was breaking out and George was much bigger than Martha and once Martha was hurt what would stop George from coming into his room and pinning his wrists and tugging at his boxers-

 _No_. His mind thought of a new word that made his breathing even out. _No George wouldn’t. You can trust George._

So why were they yelling? And quietly, too, as if to not wake Alex.

“He’s just…” They were talking about someone.

“No! He’s not!” Him?

“He did it, didn’t he?!” Laf?

“He’s going to get hurt, George!” …Thomas…

He had to know.

Feet hit the rug under his bed before he realized he was getting up, and quickly – incredibly quietly – he snuck towards the yelling; hiding outside the large archway to the kitchen – the kitchen where his foster parents were arguing.

“He doesn’t trust us, Martha.” George sounded upset. George sounded upset and Alex couldn’t bring himself to go around the corner – backing up and hiding behind the wall next to the archway. “I can’t believe this, he couldn’t tell us about this-”

“George, you saw the file on his background, please, I don’t think he’s in a positon to think he can-”

Alexander almost threw up at the realization that they were talking about _him_.

“Is it something we did?! Did we convince him he couldn’t trust us?!”

“No, of course not, George; he knows we care about him!”

What could he not trust them with?! Alex’s mind raced as he took a step back; gangly body bumping soundlessly into a wall as thoughts of _Thomas_ and _soulmate’s_ and _being soulmate-less_ and _finding out the truth filled his head._

_He’d lied to them and he didn’t mean to and god he was such a bad person what if they sent him back or what if they sent him away fuck fuck fuck fuck fuc-_

“Then why didn’t he tell us?!” George was frustrated, Alex knew that, but suddenly, a fist was slammed on the counter, shaking the table below. Alex flinched; cowered away from the door as the sound filled his mind with images of his childhood, _his father, his aunt and his cousin and his brother and-_

“Do you think… Do you think he’s… _Scared_? Of me?”

Alexander slid down to the floor, back against the corner of the wall and hand clamped over his mouth as he tried not to sob.

“What?! George, I’m sure he-”

“He flinches when I do more than whisper, Martha!” Hot tears poured down Alex’s freezing cheeks, his brain rattling with the idea that they were yelling about him and that was just about as bad as yelling _at_ him. “Is he ever going to trust us?!”

Before Alex knew what was going on, and before Martha could answer, a hiccup split from his throat.

Immediately, the conversation in the kitchen halted, and before either adult could muster the courage to break the intense eye-contact they suddenly held with one-another and run to where the sound had come from, his lip trembled manically, and the hand slipped away just in time for a full sob to omit its way through his teeth.

Knees were pulled close to his face, wrapped tight in a gangly ball, and heavy footsteps took off from the kitchen, out into the hallway.

Alex only registered George and Martha’s bare feet meeting the carpeting about three feet from his shivering body for long enough to feel his stomach churn before both adults were knelt by his side, begging questions with worried faces that only made Alex sob harder.

“I didn’t mean to!” Was all that came out of his mouth, coated by tears and gross sobs that shut Martha and George up in a second, “I should’ve told you I could’ve… It’s _Jefferson_!” It was practically a wail as it ripped from Alex’s throat. “Jefferson’s my fucking… _Fucking_ …”

As soon as Alex choked on his sobs, Martha was on her feet, and before the idea of vomit even entered his mind, a bucket was thrust into his hands. His stomach did a flip, and before he could even sob again, he was emptying the contents of his burning stomach into the blue bucket as George held his hair back and Martha rubbed his back gently.

“I- s…” Alex tried to speak over his heaving, vomit dripping down his chin and his throat burning and his nose clogged. “I- s J-eff- son.”

“Shhhh, shhh, sweetheart.” Martha pulled the boy into her arms, and Alex heaved into the bucket once again. “It’s okay, sugar, it’s okay.”

“Alex, we…” George heaved an awkward sigh, rubbing the boys back as he sobbed and heaved and cried. “We saw your arms.”

Alex’s blood ran cold, and sobbed into Martha’s shoulder once again, holding his mother close as he dry-heaved.

“I- I- I- c- an- can’t-”

“Shh, shh, Alex, baby. We’re not upset, okay?” Her arms were comforting around his back, his head buried in her shoulder

“You… Deserve to know…” His sobs choked him, and a large hand rubbed gentle circles on his back; courtesy of George.

“Not at all, Alex.” George hushed, commanding voice suddenly very comforting. “We can talk about it tomorrow, okay?”

“Thanks, dad.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, Alex’s eyes snapped open.

 “Oh- Oh my God, sh- shit, fu- fuck, I’m so sorry, George, I didn’t mean to-”

But George only stared at him for a moment, eyes wide as his gaze flicked between Martha and his son, before breaking into a teary smile and leaning forward to wrap the gangly, fragile boy in his strong arms.

“It’s okay, Alex.” George sounded like he was going to cry. “It’s completely and utterly fine.”

Alex tensed around the contact – opening his mouth around a scream that he couldn’t find – and George quickly dropped his grip as he realized what he was doing…

But Alex only flipped around weakly, wrapping wobbly limbs around George’s neck, burying his head in his father’s soft pajama-top.

“I’m sorry.” Alex mumbled into the crook of George’s neck, Martha’s hands placed gently on his back. “Please… I don’t want to leave…”

George pushed his son back gently, into his wife’s hands. Alex shivered against the contact – mumbled something like ‘too much’ and shuffled back into the corner – and George and Martha quickly scooted farther back on their knees from their child.

“Leave?” George’s voice was quiet, and for the first time since Alex had stumbled out of the bedroom, Alex realized that the man in front of him had bags under his eyes, shaking fingers, and tired eyes. Martha’s mouth curled around a yawn that made Alex realize the time, and her small, piano-players fingers were gentle in the lap of her nightgown.

They weren’t asleep because of him.

“Why… Why would you leave, Alex?” Martha’s voice forced a shiver through him that shook his frame angrily.

“Cuz…” Martha thrust the bucket back into his hands as he heaved a broken, disgusting sob. “Cuz- you don- wan- a broke- n child.”

The gasp that Martha gave made him want to throw up, and George almost didn’t look at him for a moment before offering him a small, nervous glance.

“If you… Alexander.” Martha’s gentle hand moved his chin up to meet her dark face, and George gave him a small smile from behind his wife. “You are _not_ broken. You are not broken, and even if you were, we wouldn’t care.”

“B- But-” He hated how clogged his throat was with vomit and snot; couldn’t get his precious, precious words out like he wanted to.

“But nothing.” George mumbled as his wife sat back. “Alex, we love you.”

“Yelling- bout me?” God he sounded like a _fucking_ _baby_.

“No, no, sweet thing!” Martha cooed, laying a soft blanket over his shivering frame. “We were… Alex you…” Martha sighed, her eyes plastered to Alex’s forearm – covered by the sleeve of his sweater. “We’ll talk about it in the morning, okay? We’re just… Sad that you couldn’t talk to us about all this. We’re gonna get you a therapist, okay? A good one.”

“Had one before-” Alex breathed, head knocking back against the wall in exhaustion, chest heaving. “N- Nevis… Didn’t work.” His eyes cracked open carefully, and the last of his energy was used to give the broken plea; “Please… Don’t send me away.”

“We’re not sending you anywhere, Alex.” George stated, raising his eyebrows in sincerity. “You’re staying here and we’ll get you a top-rated therapist. Okay?”

Alex let his head fall back once again, his chest heaving with heaving sobs as he breathed.

“Thank you.”

Martha gave a small, sad smile. “Nothing to thank us for, Alex.”

Alex only gave a small smile in return, and before George could even lift his exhausted body back to his bed, he was asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> isn't that nice?


	14. The Closest Friend I've Got

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jefferson can wait.

Monday was a bitch.

Alexander refused to answer his phone all weekend – 34 missed calls from Laf, 10 from Herc, and 5 from John.

 _John_.

Alex hated that he had called. It hurt to think about him; hurt to picture his cheekbones and those beautiful pink lips and gorgeous, shining eyes.

The dreams didn’t help either… The dirty, sweat, hormone-driven dreams that forced him to picture that _fucking_ face… John, moaning his name like a prayer, freckles shining with sweat, back arched with the feeling of Alex’s thrusts…

Alex absolutely despised those dreams – John’s face fresh in his mind with pleasure slapped onto every inch of his face; a sticky, disgusting mess in Alexander’s boxers that would make him change the sheets later…

Before even stepping out of George’s car, he prayed silently to whoever was listening that he would make it into class without being noticed.

“You… You gonna be okay today, kiddo?” George’s voice was low as his eyebrows knit together, the car stopping slowly at a stoplight. Alex bit his lip gently, eyes staring out the window anxiously.

“Uhm… Yeah.” Alex nodded, the taste of blood filling his mouth as he chewed his lip roughly. “I’ll be fine.”

George pursed his lips, sighing as he turned a corner. “I, uhm… Martha can come get you if you need to go home, okay?”

Hamilton barked a small laugh. “Don’t want a re-run of Friday night, George?”

George gave him a wary glance, and Alex sighed. “Sorry.”

“You’re alright, son.” George stopped the car a little ways off from the schoolyard at Alex’s request. “Hey, uhm… Listen… Have a good day, okay? I put five bucks in your bag for lunch and some peanuts for later…”

Alexander gave a small smile as he slid off the seat. George was too good to him – he didn’t deserve someone like him looking out for him.

“I… Thanks, George.” He offered the man a small smile, and George returned it. “I’ll call home if I need to.”

George gave him a tiny nod, smiling slightly as Alex shut the door. His feet were cold as he walked, snow slushing under his shoes as he shuffled down the sidewalk. The car behind him didn’t move; George stayed parked by the curb until Alex had caught up with the stream of students entering the school.

Alexander prayed that nobody saw him. That Eliza wouldn’t run up and mention the script, that Laf wouldn’t give him that bright smile that meant ‘Come say hi!’, that Herc wouldn’t clap him on the back, that John…

God even _seeing_ John would be too much right now.

But as soon as he passed through the cafeteria, a voice shocked him out of his trance.

“Mon Ami! We did not think we would see you today!” Laf.

Alexander hated that the first thing out of the French teen’s mouth was forgiveness – as if he’d brushed all the events of the last time they’d spoken off his shoulders and was now ready to face Alexander with new, brighter emotions.

Alexander barely spared a glance across the large cafeteria to the table where his friends usually sat before sighing and continuing to walk. Laf sat on top of the table, waving happily with a bright smile on his features. Herc and John sat on the benches, mildly confused looks on their faces as they looked around for who Laf was waving to.

Maria sat on the table opposite them, braiding Eliza’s hair from where she sat between her legs. Peggy’s head rested on Maria’s leg, her body turned sideways as she blew large bubbles of pink gum, and Angelica glanced behind her for just a minute before doing a double-take and offering him a smile.

Alexander only stopped for a moment, willing his mouth to stay smile-less, before moving on to sit alone at a table to wait for the bell.

Nobody bothered him.

By the time Alex had stumbled to class, Lafayette, John, and Herc were already sitting quietly in their seats – speaking low, wringing their hands, and looking utterly solemn with one-another.

Alexander sat in quiet, at the very back of the room – far from his normal seat. Hercules, John, and Laf sat at the front, and Alex could only try not to notice the glances they passed back to him, worry filling their eyes.

The bell rang just as Alexander sat down, but that didn’t stop Charles, James and… Jefferson… From walking in with the confidence of men who knew they wouldn’t be sent to the office for being late.

Alexander only looked up for a moment – but that was enough.

Brown eyes; bloodshot, puffy – he’d been crying, not sleeping – met his for only a second before he looked away. Thomas’ gaze rested on him even after he’d looked away, though; he could feel it burning into him.

“Thomas? Dude, siddown!” Charles’ laughing voice snickered, and Alexander glanced up for just long enough to see Thomas get pulled into his seat by his friends – giving a nervous chuckle as his lanky body stumbled into the chair.

Alexander felt sick watching John look between him and Laf, anxiety painting his features as they spoke low, voices gravelly and heads ducked. Everything about their demeanors screamed, “ _What’s his problem?!”._ Alexander pulled the hood of his sweater over his head, ducking down to avoid their awful, burning gazes.

But before the announcements even finished blaring over the speaker, a swipe of glittery-purple gel pen crossed the scars on his wrist, forcing his heart to drop to his feet.

_Can we talk?_

Alexander looked up slowly, his heart stopping as his eyes met beautiful, beautiful pepper-brown eyes.

An overwhelming feeling of sickness engulfed him.

 _What the fuck?!_ Alex scribbled on his arm with purple highlighter – his thoughts running rampant with images of Jefferson that day in the bathroom, tears burning in his eyes, scars running up his arms. _No, we can’t! Who the fuck do you think you are?! Do you not understand what you’ve done-_

“And _what_ might it be that’s so interesting that you can’t pay attention to my class, Mr. Hamilton?” Mr. Franklin’s voice was thrown across the class, right to the back, making Alexander jump at the mention of his name. He flinched horribly, pulling his sleeve down.

Everyone’s eyes were on him. He stared at his desk.

“N- Nothing, sir. Sorry, sir.” Alexander winced at the realization that calling Franklin ‘Sir’ was out of habit – just like he’d done to George so many times… Just like he used to do for his father.

Without even looking up, he could feel Jefferson’s gaze rest on his burning face, as well as all of Jefferson’s friends. The only difference was that Jefferson’s gaze was a lot… Softer? Hamilton hated it – _hated_ that there was no hint of smirk in his eyes like there was in his friend's gazes.

Tears threatened to fall down his cheeks. Laf gave an audible, small gasp from across the class, and Alex only glanced up for a moment to meet Laf’s gaze before looking back down.

“Can I use the restroom?” Alex shuddered at the way Franklin hesitated, knowing the man wanted to ask what was wrong, but only gave him a pleading look before he was allowed to leave.

Alex knew better than to dignify Jefferson’s pen marks with looking at him on the way out, but it still burned to walk past him as his friends snickered. As the door clicked shut behind him, Laf was seen whispering to Herc about something, their stares following Alexander out the door.

His feet dragged down the hall – breathing ragged as he recounted the way to the bathroom, locking the stall door with shaking hands and kneeling on bony legs by the toilet; afraid he would puke. His arm tingled once again, and the thought of Jefferson’s handwriting plaguing his arm made him dry-heave. 

He needed a distraction, he knew he did – could feel it in his bones. He needed his mother, needed to write, needed his friends, family, his cousin, his _razors_ , he needed-

A voice was heard outside the bathroom door.

“Alex?! Alexander, are you in there?! Hey, hey, shh, you’re okay…” The door jiggled as someone hit it, and Alex gave a shudder. “It’s me, ‘Lexi, it’s John… Please, Alex, please, please come out.”

John…

He needed _John_.

Needed john to touch him, needed John to kiss him and hold him close and whisper anything, everything into his ear.

The sketchbook was still in his bag, he realized with a small smile. Pulling it out slowly, he opened it to the 45th page. The page where John’s freckled face smiled back at him through water-colored shades of brown and rough graphite marks.

Alexander smiled through his tears, his breathing wavering for only a moment before he realized that it was slowly pulling back to normal.

Alex sighed, standing slowly, on shaky legs that didn’t support him.

And opening the door to the stall slowly, John engulfed him in a hug.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oooof


	15. Laurens, I Like You A Lot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The floor of the bathroom was disgusting, but neither of them cared.
> 
> They were together, and that was enough.

John’s hand was warm in his.

The way his lithe fingers entwined with Alex’s, the way his palm fit perfectly in Alex’s hand was more than wonderful – more than bliss. His cheek against Alex’s cheek; his breath grazing the Caribbean boy's earlobe so gracefully that Alex couldn’t help but shudder.

They stayed in the bathroom until Alex stopped crying.

Alex kept his head buried deep in the crook of John’s neck – the freckled boy pressing soft kisses to Alex’s hairline and cheeks. Alex sat curled into John’s side, playing softly with the fabric of his purple shirt.

The floor of the bathroom was disgusting, but neither of them cared.

They were together, and that was enough.

“Couldn’t even make it an hour.” Alex sighed, wiping the tears off from his cheeks gently. He mumbled a shaky laugh. “Goddammit.”

John shook his head, pressing another kiss to his friend’s hair. “It’s okay, ‘Lexi… It’s been a bad week, you know?”

“Or a bad life…” Alex chuckled.

“…Perhaps.” John shrugged. “Uhm… Look, we should… Go back to class.”

Alex sniffled and looked up at the other teen. “What?”

“I- If you want to, of course.”

Alex only nodded gently. “Y- Yeah.”

On shaky legs, supported by John, Alex made it to his feet. John was quick to hand him a small chocolate, and gave him a small smile when he bit off the corner.

John stared gently into Alex’s eyes, his eyes half-lidded over a small smile. His lips were almost too close to Alex’s face, but Alex liked it. Liked counting the freckles on his cheekbones, liked watching his mouth part as he breathed slightly, liked the way his eyes flicked up and down Alex’ thin body with slight hunger.

His perfect eyes landed on new pen markings on the back of his hand. Alex couldn’t bear to look

“Alexander… I…” John grimaced slightly, and took a step back from Alex; hand rubbing the back of his neck as his gaze dropped to the floor. “Look Laf told me about Jefferson and I-”

Alex sucked in a breath. “He what?!”

“No! No, wait I meant… Dammit.” John sighed, sliding down the wall to sit on the floor. “I asked.”

“You… What?”

John chuckled airily. “I asked where you went – course I asked where you went… I was worried. I didn’t see you and Laf was gone and… He told me…”

“What… Else did he say?” Alex asked, kneeling next to John.

“He said… You don’t like that it’s Jefferson. He said you never thought you’d run into him here.”

 _Oh thank God,_ Alex wanted to cry, _he lied; Laf lied, Laf’s good._

“I hate him.” Alex shook his head, scoffing slightly and wiping his eyes. “I hate that man.”

“Do you…” John sat up slightly, clearing his throat. “Hate men?”

Alex’s face twisted. “What?!”

“No, I mean…! Ugh, how do I say this…” John pushed his head into his hands. “Would you rather have it be… A girl?”

Alex’s eyes widened, staring at him. “Oh! Uhm… I mean… You’re asking if I’m gay?”

John’s cheeks blushed a bright red, and he looked down as he smiled slightly. “Uhm… Y- Yeah.”

“Then… Yeah. Or; bisexual – I think.” Alex nodded. “But yes, I… I like boys.”

“Do you like… Me?”

Alex’s head snapped up to look at John, and John only stared back; a bare look on his face as he watched Alex intently. The cherry blush was still on his freckled cheeks, and Alex’s pants felt too hot at the way that John bit his lip.

“Yes.”

John’s lips were on Alex’s before Alex knew what was happening, and Alex made a noise of surprise; John opened his eyes quickly, tried to move back when he realized what was happening, but Alexander was quick to put his hands on the back of John’s head, keeping John there.

John was quick to cup Alex’s face, kneeling between Alex’s splayed legs to get as close to Alex as he could.

Alex broke away after a long moment, breathless. A string of spit connected their lips as John sat back on his haunches, wiping his mouth and panting.

“Holy shit.” He giggled, still breathing heavily. “I’ve never… _Holy shit_!”

“I… Johnny, you…” Alex broke into a small fit of giggles as he sat up, fingertips brushing his tingling lips.

“I shouldn’t have… You didn’t stop me…”

“I liked it.” Alex shook his head, staring into John’s eyes. His face broke into a smile. “I loved it!”

John bit his lip again, and Alex felt his heartbeat quicken.

“So, uhm…” John started, rubbing his thighs carefully. “If… If you and Jefferson aren’t a thing… Does that mean you’re free Saturday night?”

 Alex looked like a deer in headlights for a moment before a dumb smile spread over his face.

“’Course.”

John hummed, leaning forward and pressing another quick kiss to Alex’s lips.

“You taste like… Saltwater and honey.”

“You… Taste like… Uhm… Nice?”

John snorted, pressing a soft kiss to Alexander’s cheeks as he smiled; wrapping an arm around Alex’s neck and giggling.

“I like you a lot, Alex.”

“I like you too, Johnny.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not as long as i would've liked but good all the same (that's what he said) uHm it's gay happy pride month


End file.
